


Sing Your Love

by forgetmenotjimmy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Ron singing...a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout the years they’ve lived together, Harry has always enjoyed Ron’s singing but lately he’s been picking up hidden messages in his flatmate’s song choices...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. L-O-V-E

Chapter 1 – L-O-V-E

Opening the front door, Harry was about to call out a greeting before he heard the loud music coming from the kitchen. Grinning, he shut the door quietly and tiptoed in to catch a glimpse of Ron’s performance. Going home was Harry’s favourite thing to do. Even if he was having a brilliant day where everything was running smoothly and he didn’t want to leave or he had had a horrendous bollocking and was bringing paperwork back with him along with a stinging pride; he would stride down the hallway into the kitchen and feel better seeing that cheerful face usually attached to a jiggling body. Harry still had reluctant memories of the Yule Ball and was bemused every time he compared that completely unenthusiastic Ron to the one who was constantly bouncing around the kitchen or the living room or even his bedroom.

_L! is for the way you look, at me._

It was Hermione’s fault, she had shown Ron ‘Saturday Night Fever’ and he hadn’t shut up about John Travolta since. He was often teased for having a crush on the dancer, as much as he had been teased for being in awe of Victor Krum, but despite the initial gangly quality to his ‘moves’ he was getting better. Or at least Harry thought so. Ginny and Hermione would still giggle whenever they caught him at it, but Harry liked how free he was when he danced, how he let go of his inhibitions and doubts, just letting go. Harry envied him that and genuinely thought that Ron was finally getting the hang of the whole thing.  
He liked Ron’s performances so much that last Christmas he’d bought Ron an iPod, knowing Ron would be fascinated with it as well as use it incessantly. He was completely right. In fact, he had almost become angry at the damn thing because it was constantly on loud unless he insisted on a quiet night of reading or finishing papers. Well, he would only complain when he was in a bad mood; Ron seemed to work better with some music in the background and Harry would end up grinning as he caught his flatmate’s toe tapping out of the corner of his eye.

_O! is for the only one for me._

On this particular evening, he paused at the kitchen door, happy with his flatmate’s obvious good mood but slightly nervous as he was going to tell Ron about his new girlfriend. He’d been trying to soften Ron up over the past few days by subtly reiterating how important their friendship was to him. It was true, but he was saying it a lot more than usual, dropping hints that he wouldn’t want to ruin their friendship for anything, not even someone else. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ron had figured it out, he’d been layering it on quite thick. Poking his head round the door, Harry grinned further as indeed Ron was wiggling as he flipped something in a pan, his heart lifted further as he recognised the song.

_V! Is very, very, extraordinary…_

A love song! Harry was hopeful that this meant Ron had finally found someone worth singing about. He had worried about Ron ever since his sudden and irrevocable break-up with Hermione. It had surprised everyone and still confused him as they both claimed it was mutual but never provided solid reasons. He had been slightly disappointed because he’d thought the pair perfect for each other, but then when they’d remained friends and Hermione had found a fantastic boyfriend it hadn’t seemed so bad. He thought that Ron deserved someone amazing as well; he was the most fantastic man he knew after all, his first and best friend. Turning mid-word, the red-head saw him and hardly missed a beat, grinning into the next phrase, carrying on his dancing. Giving in to that incredible smile, Harry started singing along.

“E! Is even more than anyone that I adore.” Jiggling, they laughed at each other as Ron served up and they sat down to eat; Ron turned the song off and rubbed his palms, eyes shining with something Harry didn’t have the nerves to interpret. Harry, still unsure as how to break the news, began asking Ron about his day.

“Oh it was pretty average. Johnson was on my back about that piece on the Tornadoes’ new trainer though.” He shook his head. “How many times do I have to say it? I have to wait for confirmation from the lawyers about…” Harry was lost in the journalist jargon but nodded along anyway, occasionally praising Ron’s cooking, which had been another thing Ron had been working on since the end of the war. After the death of Fred, Mrs Weasley had been a wreck, barely even managing to get out of bed most days; the Weasley children had sprung into action, working together to fill in the gap in cooking and cleaning. Trying to keep George busy, Ron and Ginny had poked and prodded him into help with the cooking and together the three of them had provided most of the meals until Mrs Weasley had recovered enough to regain control of the kitchen. Harry had been amazed when Ron had insisted on cooking when they’d moved in together, saying he’d really enjoyed it and should pitch in as Harry was the one with the ‘proper job’. Harry often frowned at this, replying that being an Auror wasn’t more important than being a Quidditch reporter; Ron had laughed at that but Harry agreed with him quickly before money was brought up, there was a stark difference in their professions there.

Turning his back to Ron as he cleared the plates he breathed to start the ‘I have a new girlfriend’ conversation when Ron interrupted his first word.  
“Harry, do you remember that party ages ago at the Lovegoods?”  
As soon as that name was mentioned, Harry was on guard. Yes, he did remember. He remembered it all too well. It had been a few weeks after the end of the war when people were starting to get things back on track; re-buildings were being finished, jobs being returned to and life beginning to continue. There had been a party in the newly rebuilt Lovegood House. Harry remembered getting there, being swamped by ministers, old school friends and drink after drink before being saved by a tap on the shoulder from Ron. They’d slipped out into the grounds and found a quiet spot, talking occasionally but mainly just letting the night air breeze around them. The next thing he remembers is his clumsy arms pulling an equally drunk Ron even closer to him, Ron’s soft, soft lips on his neck. Blinking as he recovered some coherent thought, he’d pulled away, mumbling and leaving a confused Ron to call after him. After an awkward morning of hangovers and avoiding the topic, Ron had just come out with it and said it had been a drunken mistake which had relieved Harry no end. He’d smiled weakly and they’d never ever mentioned it again in the three years they had lived together. Until now.

“That was a long time ago Ron.” Harry had begun cautiously, looking Ron in the eye with a look that reiterated the message all those years ago. For a second, pain and disappointment flickered across Ron’s face before the expression cleared and he continued airily.

“Oh, it’s just I ran into Mr. Lovegood today.” Harry only nodded and hummed to the rest of the story; he wasn’t sure why his heart was beating so furiously at the mere mention of that night, the desperate embrace, the fiery kisses. When Ron had finished speaking neither said anything else for the rest of the night. The good mood crumbling as they each retreated into themselves. Lying in bed later, Harry sighed. He would have to tell Ron tomorrow, he would have to go through all this again, he groaned into his pillow.


	2. Crazy In Love

Harry stood at his front door, looking at it thoughtfully. Today he was going to do it. He was just going to go right up to Ron and tell him about Quinn. He had to. Hermione and Ginny both knew and were eager to meet her; he was running out of time before they spoke to Ron and let slip. Hell, even some of people at work knew and God knew they were the worst gossips he’d ever met; everyone was tight-knit in the units, training, investigating and fighting alongside like-minded people left little distance between them. But his workmates had other friends, possibly mutual friends at the newspaper, possibly even in the very office Ron worked at... And it had to be him who told Ron, no one else. He didn’t know why he felt this, it was just there, like an unspoken rule they’d sealed with a handshake somewhere in their first year.

_I look and stare so deep in your eyes_

He suddenly saw Ron’s eyes in his head, staring at him with an intensity that made him shiver. His friend was often present in his head, usually providing the voice for the dry comments or crude jokes that popped into his head throughout the day when they were separated by their work. After years of being together almost constantly, it had been strange to suddenly spend so much time apart every day. Used to things going on inside his head, Harry hadn’t been bothered about how his imagining of how Ron would react to something at the Auror Academy actually became so automatic it really was like having a little Ron hanging around inside his head, or on his shoulder. Memories of ‘Pinocchio’ made Harry snort, Ron would make a terrible conscience! Still, wouldn’t be boring.  
Snapping himself out of his thoughts and breathing out sharply, he opened the door and walked into their little flat. He could smell meat cooking accompanied by loud pop music; closing the door firmly he called so he couldn’t chicken out.

“Ron! I’ve got some news!” He dumped his bag and strode into the kitchen to find it empty.

_When you leave I'm beggin’ you not to go_

Blinking stupidly, Harry took in the sizzling frying pan, the half-finished salad and the set table before turning around, trying to listen for Ron’s position, fingers itching a little closer to his pocketed wand. Ron was always in the kitchen, he felt uneasy at his sudden disappearance even though he knew there would be a simple explanation; there were a dozen things he could be doing in other rooms. But still he felt a little thrill of fear as he looked around the room again. The music was too loud, so he went to turn it off when he recognised it suddenly.

Lips twitching into a smile as memories of summers at the Dursley’s listening to the song on next door’s radio, Harry took his hand away from the iPod and stood soaking in the familiar tune.

“Harry.” His red-headed friend murmured right behind his ear. He jumped and swivelled around, forgetting all about his mission on seeing those low-lidded eyes, so close, wondering how many times Ron had called to him over the music and how long he’d been that close. It was embarrassing for an Auror to be surprised like that, but that somehow didn’t even register with the startled Harry.

_Call your name two, three times in a row._

Looking his best mate straight in the eye he saw something flicker in them and for a moment he just heard Ron’s voice in his head, calling his name as he ran from him in that damned garden at the Lovegood’s, confused and hurt and… Blinking, he took in the red-head taking a step back and scratching the back of his head as more words sang into Harry’s ear.

_Such a funny thing for me to try to explain._

Harry was suddenly reminded of fourth year when Ron was attempting to apologise for not believing him about the Triwizard Cup; the same nervousness, a touch of shame burning those cheeks. He half-smiled, remembering that he had already forgiven the bashful red-head and so his apology had been mildly amusing, he had always liked his best friend’s furious blush and worried look, it was… Definitely not the look of someone’s moral compass incarnate.

_Look at what you’ve done to me._

Back in the present, under the loud music, Ron bit his lip. There was a fleck of black ink on his right cheek just where the soft skin curved upwards over his cheekbone and there were heavy dashes of it on his shirt sleeves, now Hermione’s voice invaded Harry’s mind, exasperatedly asking how much of the stuff he actually used for writing. The red, wild hair, Harry suddenly noticed, looked messier than usual and his bright eyes wide and almost, well, quivering. This was definitely new.

_It’s the beat that my heart skips when I’m with you._

Looking back in those eyes, Harry found himself breathless for a moment.

_Your kiss’s got me hoping you save me right now_

Coupling the choice of song and his nervousness, Harry was convinced of his suspicion the day before, his thought that Ron had found someone. Smiling, he asked as he nudged his friend with his elbow.

“So! What’s her name?” His friend’s eyes widened in surprise and there was shadow in them Harry almost missed, looking for the blush to deepen and the confession to spill out. Ron was nothing but predictable when it came to girls he liked. Instead though, he reached out and turned the music right down and turned back to the hob, shrugging as he said in a forced-light tone.

“Oh, no one…What made you think that?”

_Got me lookin’ so crazy right now._

Harry grinned, indicating to the iPod and wiggling his hips a little to the beat, grin widening as Ron glanced at him. Gulping, his friend shook his head and turned away again, mouth spasming in an unconvincing half-smile as he suddenly became very interested in the browning of the chicken.

“It was just on scuffle. Hermione must’ve, added it on I don’t…” He trailed off, his sudden mood being ignored for a moment as Harry tried to follow the meaning. Scuffle? Oh, shuffle. Mouth twisting a little, unsure of what to make of Ron’s denial, Harry shook his head, grabbing a half-torn lettuce and tearing the last few pieces into the salad bowl. The two fell into an easy conversation about their days as they tended to their food, the warmth and nice smells in the kitchen cocooning them in familiarity; but Harry steeled himself as he dumped the empty lettuce packaging. He needed to breath and just say it. Slightly damp hands dangling at his sides, he faced his best friend and trying to stop being distracted by said best friend and the song opened his mouth.

_I don’t understand just how your love can do what no one else can_

Lately, he’d been finding Ron looking more and more awkward around him, as if he could sense the news Harry had bottled inside. He had really noticed it whenever he brought up love or girlfriends: Ron would shift in his seat or move his shoulders as if shrugging off a bad thought, deepening the twist in Harry’s own stomach. Harry had thought that maybe Ron had been feeling a little of the guilt he felt, if he really had found someone else. They’d been through a lot together, this was just another adventure, right?

_Your love's got me lookin’ so crazy right now._

“Ron-” But suddenly Ron looked at him with a crooked smile which silenced him and he gave up again too easily, sitting down to the last few beats of the song.


	3. We Are In Love

_I know you so well_

Sitting in his office staring sightlessly at the door Harry twirled his quill. Maybe it was the flat. Maybe that’s why he kept on failing to tell his best friend the news. Maybe he felt too guilty about spoiling Ron’s perpetual good mood he had when he was at home; but it wasn’t bad news, why did he think it would upset him? Shaking his head, Harry got up from his desk at grabbed his cloak; time to visit Ron at work. He and Ron used to visit each other at work an awful lot back when they’d both settled down in permanent offices, well, now that Harry thought about it, Ron had done most of the visiting. In fact, he was struggling to remember what Ron’s office at the paper looked like. But at any rate, as they’d both got busier and time had gone on they’d stopped visiting each other as much, they lived together anyway. Still, it had been nice to be struggling through some paperwork and then look up to see that grinning face in front of him, usually bearing food. After being at school with each other for so long Harry constantly found himself missing that fiery head next to him at all hours of the day. He’d been desperately disappointed when Ron hadn’t joined him in Auror training; although he understood Ron’s reluctance to continue fighting, he still missed his company. Standing up from his desk and pulling on his cloak, he wondered whether he really wanted to bring bad news to Ron’s work, ruin one of the only times he ever saw Ron there. Again, he mentally shook himself, it was good news, Ron would be happy for him.

_…Baby, I love you…_

Appearing at the door outside Ron’s office he peered in, catching sight of his friend sitting behind a very messy desk. The office was quite small, just fitting in the large desk, a filing cabinet and some shelves with random knickknacks and Cannons memorabilia stuffed under various files and papers but Ron had managed to squeeze in the pot plant that Hermione had bought him early on in their relationship in a far corner; it looked slightly worse for wear but was definitely still alive, the only colour in the room apart from the large Cannons poster on the opposite wall to the desk, a present from… George? All Harry could remember was Ron un-wrapping it one Christmas and crying out in boyish delight. It was always a little stuffy in the room, Ron usually not bothering to cast a cooling charm but just taking off his robes leaving him in a loose brown trousers and light blue shirt, unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up and with flicks of ink covering the collar and chest; he was flipping through some papers, quill sticking out his mouth, ink splattered around those pressed lips, forehead furrowed slightly as he skimmed over the pages. Harry swore that Ron was addicted to the taste of ink because he was always covered in it. For a moment, Harry just watched his flatmate in thought, scratching his head for a minute before turning back to a previous page, eyes narrowing as he shifted in his seat slightly. Leaning against the doorframe Harry smiled, there in that office was his…his best friend, his most cherished person in all the world. Looking up and sighing, eyes wondering around the room, the journalist suddenly saw the head poking through the door and after the initial surprise he took the quill from his mouth and his smile widened. Coming over Harry pointed vaguely at the desk and asked.

“What’s that?” Ron looked down at the papers in his hands, cocking his head up to his friend and exclaiming in a mock-excited way.

“These? Only the notes from the best Cannons’ match of the century!” Harry grinned and conjured a second chair, shuffling it between two stacks of random newspapers, sitting down and placing the box of doughnuts he’d brought on a small space on the desk. Ron laughed, clearing some more space and picking it up, grinning as he took one. They talked for a while, every so often lowering their voices when Ron’s boss walked past the door, shoulders hunched like schoolboys dodging detection from a teacher. Harry had only met Johnson once and it hadn’t been a pleasant experience; Ron complained a lot about the fierce man badgering him about deadlines but he’d never suffered anything too bad from him as he was generally quite good at handing stuff in on time and was a damn good writer. That was yet another surprise that Ron had thrown at Harry after the war; Ron had hated writing essays throughout school and although he knew a lot and talked about Quidditch almost constantly, Harry had never thought he would be able to write it all down so coherently and well, beautifully sometimes. Sure that Ron would be embarrassed, he hadn’t told him that he had kept all his articles in a box underneath his bed but every so often if Ron was working late or out having a drink with the guys from his office, he would read them again and smile. Their conversation was warm and familiar and Harry just completely forgot about what he was meant to say, he looked up at Ron when he spoke again after an amiable pause.

_‘I love you’… Could it be that’s the phrase you thought never would phase you…_

“I spoke to Seamus today.” Harry wasn’t surprised, although he hadn’t spoken to their old dorm-mate in a while he knew that Ron talked to him a lot; but usually Ron didn’t really tell him about their meetings unless he’d learned something interesting.

“Really? How is he?”

“Good, yeah he was talking about his latest night out with the guys that ended up in a…” Ron lowered his voice and motioned for Harry to lean in. “a gay bar.” Harry laughed. “That’s so typical of Seamus!” Ron leant back and looked surprised.

“Really? You always thought Seamus was gay?” Harry shook his head, still smiling.

“No! God no, he’s not gay is he?” He asked incredulously, unable to imagine Seamus not chasing ‘birds’. “I meant he’s always just been, you know, the life of the party and stuff.” Ron laughed a little too but not comfortably, shuffling his papers as Harry checked the time, getting up, telling Ron he’d see him later.

The mention of Seamus’ partying always brought back the memory of Ron and Seamus, spectacularly drunk, prancing around their dorm room in 6th Year singing ‘I’m Too Sexy’ in loud and slurred voices as he, Neville and Dean laughed hysterically, tears squeezing out of their half-closed eyes. He could always see an extremely dizzy-looking Ron, bumping hips with an equally far-gone Seamus, spinning around and tripping up, exploding into snorts and terribly off-key bouts of the song. For some reason Seamus’ school shirt was open and his tie was around his forehead, Ron had rolled his sleeves up and his hand-me-down shirt was un-tucked so sometimes when he was moving it would ride up slightly. Harry had a vivid image of his friend with his arms above his head, eyes closed in mock-soulfulness and red, shining lips open mid-word, for some reason Harry always thought the word was ‘sexy’ but he couldn’t be sure.

_When I kiss you good-night, just sleep tight with the thought that you’ll always be caught up in love with me_

A very short time after that amazing rendition of that song, the very sleepy Ron had hugged him, giggling weakly and mumbling intelligibly. It had felt nice, even with the other boys teasing them half-heartedly as they drifted to bed. After a lot of giggling and rocking to and fro Harry had felt his friend relax into him, snuggling his ginger head into the crook of his neck; Harry could almost feel that lazy smile and in the confusion thought he felt wet lips press against his skin. But then there was laughter again and he was struggling to get his very, very happy friend into his own bed. Staggering with the half-dead weight in his arms, quite drunk himself, he managed to half-drop, half-throw the still giggling red-head onto the bed. He helped the boy, still-snickering but now weakly, under his covers, not bothering to change clothes. Smiling warmly, stroking some red strands back from that soft face he sighed a little and whispering.

“Night Ron.”

Dinner that night was amiable, Harry, not being able to concentrate since he’d come back from visiting Ron had clocked off early and went to the shops to cook dinner for the first time in ages. He’d burnt the roast potatoes and the vegetables were slightly overdone but the lamb was nice and tender; Ron was eating everything anyway and his expression when he’d walked in and seen Harry in the kitchen had been worth it. There was a lull in conversation and the two smiled comfortably, Ron took a sip of beer as Harry sat back a little. He didn’t recognise the song playing in the background, it was a big band number and something he would definitely have not heard blaring out from Dudley’s room as he was growing up. The male singer was singing about getting married or something but strangely his voice reminded him of Seamus.

“Is he?” Ron looked up in confusion at Harry’s opener and waited for clarification.

“Gay, is Seamus gay?” Ron seemed a bit startled but shrugged after a second, mumbling that he didn’t know. Harry narrowed his eyes, Ron was a terrible liar, face going red.

“Why should I know anyway? It’s not…it’s not something we talk about.” Harry knew somehow that sexuality was something that Ron did talk to Seamus about, his stomach clenched as he thought that maybe Ron had told Seamus about the mystery girl…maybe Seamus had even introduced them. He knew about Ron and Seamus sneaking lunchtime beers and found himself suddenly feeling jealous, but was comforted by the thought that he suspected that Seamus tried to convince Ron to go clubbing with him on a regular basis and Ron never agreed; he spent every night with Harry. Well, apart from the nights he or Harry would go out with the guys from their work or Harry would go out with Quinn. Maybe he and Ron should go out sometime, get a drink. Enough stalling, it was way past time now.

_You know I can’t lie if I say to you ‘baby, I love you'_

Deep breath taken in, Harry put down his cutlery and jumped in.

“Have I told you about Quinn?” He watched those bright blue eyes closely, they narrowed slightly as his friend shook his head cautiously. “She’s great; I met her when I was bringing a witness to a murder investigation into St. Mungo’s to get an injury looked at and straight away I just was floored by her comment, oh what was it? It was something like…oh, I can’t remember it was so funny though, yeah.” He laughed a little but Ron didn’t laugh with him, he’d stopped eating and his expression seemed to be frozen in suspicion. Nervously he went on, knowing he was rambling about how they’d met again, got talking and started having coffee in the hospital canteen, but he was unable to stop until he dared look at his friend again and then trailed off. “So yeah, she’s…really great.” Ron gave him a confused look before he saw where Harry was going and there was a flash across his face, almost like a soft plead; blinking fiercely, Harry took the plunge. “She’s my girlfriend.” There was a short delay in his friend’s reaction. Ron’s eyes clouded and his pink lips opened soundlessly.

_I know you so well._

“Wow, that’s…sudden.” Harry’s insides coiled tighter at the almost breathless reply and he opened his mouth to attempt damage control before Ron waved his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s great! I mean she sounds great! A Healer… you said?” Harry widened his open mouth to interrupt but Ron just kept on. “Nice one mate, that’s great! Really, really great, good for you!” There was an awkward silence after Ron stopped babbling and the two sat for a minute.

_We’re in love_

Ron stood suddenly and turned the music off.


	4. Girlfriend

_Hey, hey, you, you, I don’t like your girlfriend_

A number of changes happened in Harry and Ron’s flat over the next few weeks: Ron started humming an annoying tune that Harry just couldn’t quite place; all he had to go on was that Ron usually hummed it when he thought Harry wasn’t listening or he just went softer whenever Harry came into the room. Another thing was that now when Harry was going to spend time with Quinn he wouldn’t lie about it and say he was going for drinks with his colleagues or working late; for some reason this made him feel even guiltier, just seeing Ron almost flinch and go quiet. He found too that Ron would go out with Seamus more and he even went clubbing once or twice even though Harry knew Ron hated it. The pair of them had been roped in to going soon after Ron and Hermione had split and it had been a horrible experience; the music had been too loud, the room had smelt bad and the people had smelt even worse, all drunken and just revolting. There were drunken roommates singing in a dorm room and then there were drunk strangers bumping into you and dancing around you in a hot dump; it just wasn’t for Ron and Harry. Well, Harry thought to himself a little hurt, he had assumed Ron hadn’t liked it either, following him out of the exit quite soon after they’d entered.

Most of all, Harry noticed that Ron would always abruptly change the topic of conversation if it involved ‘she-who-must-not-be-named’ or he’d make an indication that he was deliberately not paying attention. It was perhaps the frostiest they’d been in a long time and even though it wasn’t a constant distance, it was an unwelcome in Harry’s eyes. But though sometimes it was just best to be straight with someone, Ron never responded well to direct challenges especially when you weren’t exactly sure the reason behind his responses. Harry could understand feeling threatened by someone else holding a friend’s attention though he’d never really felt that kind of jealousy he could grasp the concept. Somehow he didn’t believe that Ron’s problem was that simple and he knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task trying to figure it out.

_You’re so fine, I want you mine_

The day after Harry had finally told Ron, Ginny and Hermione had invited themselves over to talk about it. Harry was annoyed by this for several reasons: the girls instantly complained about the state of the flat and set about messing all their things up and through their almost-forced cheer they made Ron even surlier than he’d been the previous evening. So they came round and cooed and awed as Harry blushed, half-mumbling the information they nudged out of him; they all drank tea and ate biscuits, the girls grinning, Harry smiling and Ron staring at the wall, heavy frown on his face. He’d been distant for most of it, which Ginny had noticed and soon made worse, nudging him sharply with her foot with a look of half-cheer and half-anger on her strong features.

“Come on Ron, you should be happy for Harry!” Everyone winced at this, all for different reasons; Ron had just glared at his sister and Hermione had coughed loudly and started talking about something else. Hermione was more tactful in general and waited until she thought Harry couldn’t hear to talk to Ron in low tones. Harry couldn’t understand what they were saying, briefly trying to listen through the door before Ginny called for him to help her with the drinks. He stood back from the door connecting the kitchen and living room to go over and get the glasses Ginny could never find. She asked him to tell her more about Quinn and he obliged; thinking briefly that standing side by side with his ex talking about his new girlfriend wasn’t strange at all.

In the wake of their break-up, mutual though it had been, he had worried that it would have affected the dynamic of their friendship group as well as the atmosphere of family gatherings. But luckily he and Ginny had remained good friends, the best parts of their relationship kept intact despite the failure of the rest. Looking back on it all, Harry still was surprised how sure he’d been before the end of the War that Ginny had been ‘The One’. Whenever he thought about living after defeating Voldemort, he’d always pictured a nice little house with a few children and Ginny, smiling at him from a white-picket fence; not that he’d admit that to anyone. Anyway, the first week or two after the War was filled with long and impassioned declarations and proof of love for every couple, not just them. It was when he was deciding where to live after moving out of the Burrow that he and Ginny ran into problems. He had always thought that he’d live with Ron. He’d just assumed it and so had Ron, but apparently both of their girlfriends seemed taken aback by this decision; they hadn’t become irate when their wishes to move in with their boyfriends were overlooked, but it had definitely caused tensions.

Soon, his relationship with Ginny just sort of fell apart; it wasn’t anyone’s fault, they just lost that rush of emotions that had come when they had seen each other before and immediately after the War. The main reason that Harry didn’t want to break-up after he’d realised this, was because he was terrified of Ron disowning him as surrogate brother for hurting Ginny, so it was her who finally said one night over dinner in an okay Italian restaurant that maybe they should just be friends. Harry had acted a little too relieved but she hadn’t been offended and they’d set about telling everyone. It was everyone else who took badly, Ron in particular, but when people saw how genuinely okay the pair was, they just accepted it and they’d both moved on. He looked at her now and still saw the beauty that had attracted him to her: the fiery red locks, cute little nose and soft brown eyes. Harry had never realised before that although he saw so much of Ron in Ginny, he was never reminded of her whilst looking at her brother, but in that moment when he was looking at her sparkling eyes he thought that they were the wrong colour. No, just different, not wrong, different.

When they went back to the living room, Ron had gone from moody to just plain miserable, but he at least made more of an effort to not show it and Hermione didn’t seem too exasperated, just a little down.

_You can do so much better_

After the pair of well-wishers had left Ron immediately cleared some glasses – obviously wanting to escape Harry’s presence – leaving Harry to sit on the sofa, going over the meeting in his head. Listening to the clinks from the kitchen Harry rubbed his forehead and sighed. It was going to be worse than he thought.

Harry was beginning to get a bit exasperated with this surly and jealous Ron after two and a half weeks of this behaviour; he thought that Ron was overreacting to the whole thing. Of course he would get a new girlfriend at some point. He knew that they’d been closer than they’d ever been before, he knew that he himself felt a bit strange at times, sharing parts of himself that so far, Ron had only really known. But it couldn’t just be them in their little flat forever. As hard as he thought, he couldn’t come up with another reason why his friend would act this way, there had to be something but it was alluding him.

Coming back to a darkened flat late one night after seeing Quinn, Harry frowned, wondering where his flatmate was and went into the kitchen to have a snack before bed.

He put on Ron’s iPod for comfort and immediately recognised the song Ron had been humming incessantly ever since he’d been told about Harry’s new girlfriend. He looked at the screen: Girlfriend, by Avril Lavinge. That name was familiar… Harry stood up straight and frowned trying to place her when she began singing. “Hey hey, you you, I don’t like your girlfriend…I think you need a new one.” He snorted and shook his head. Nice Ron, real nice. Now he was getting at Harry with his music. He turned it off and a few minutes later heard his flatmate return; neither said anything but just went to bed. He didn’t mention it to Ron as finally his surly best friend seemed to start coming round to the idea. The day after he’d realised what song Ron had been humming he miraculously stopped humming it, and when Harry tentatively brought up visiting Quinn at the hospital during his lunch break, Ron hadn’t sucked his teeth or cut across Harry; he’d said ‘Uhuh?’ – angrily rather than in an ‘interested’ way – but it had definitely been an improvement. After a long sleepless night, the only plausible explanation Harry had found was maybe it was jealously coupled with loneliness. Ron hadn’t dated in a while, it could be he was scared of losing Harry and being alone. Yes, maybe his friend just needed a new girl of his own to help this acceptance along…

_I think you need a new one_

“Hermione, do you know any nice girls?” Harry was sitting next to his other best friend on the sofa in the townhouse she lived in with her boyfriend. Her living room was bigger than his and Ron’s and nicer furnished, with pale walls, plush curtains and rustic furniture. She laughed and put down her tea.

“You haven’t split up already have you?” Harry's lips twitched but he corrected her firmly.

“No, I meant for Ron.” Her face fell immediately. Harry frowned, after their break-up, Ron and Hermione hadn’t expressed any animosity towards each other’s significant others. Though come to think about it, Ron hadn’t been with anyone since Hermione. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? Coming back to the present, he studied his friend’s face. She began carefully.

“Well, I don’t think I know anyone of his type.” This threw Harry, what was Ron’s type? He managed to keep his thoughts under control during the rest of his conversation with Hermione and after he said goodbye decided to walk home instead of disapparate. It was sunny and he squinted a bit as he turned his mind to the question of Ron’s type. He shut the door to the memories of Lavender Brown; he was definitely not re-visiting those days. Well, the only other girl Ron had ever been with was Hermione and he had considered them perfect for each other, except…

_Hey, hey, you, you, I know that you like me_

Except. As a guy, he’d had to side with Ron in most of his spats with her; it was just the rule. But occasionally he’d been really angry at Hermione’s treatment of his best friend, because secretly Ron was his closer friend; she’d urge Ron to read more and play around less, to be more serious.

_You can do much better_

Harry had always protested this attitude. Ron didn’t need to change; he was perfect as he was. Maybe he was lazy sometimes and maybe he didn’t completely empathize with everyone’s emotions in any given situation; but he always came through when he was needed, he always did what had to be done and Ron didn’t have stunted emotional growth or whatever Hermione used to call it, he felt the same as everyone else, he was just better at disguising the true reasons for his reactions. You just had to figure out his emotional riddle to understand where he was coming from; sometimes that was infuriating but most of the time Harry was pretty quick at answering the silent question and felt a little spark of joy in his stomach, knowing that he was the only one who could really see Ron, see all of him.

Maybe that’s why he was having a hard time seeing Ron with any type of girl; she just wouldn’t understand him as well as he did. He sighed, that was it, he’d just have to make a female clone of himself. Snorting a little at this thought, he was surprised to find himself outside their shared flat. Maybe he should just ask him. But his gut wrenched at the thought. No, for some reason deep down, he was scared of the answer.

_You’re so fine, I want you mine_

Sighing, he opened the door and went in.


	5. I Don't Dance

Ron listened to the fading track, raising his shoulders to avoid some people jostling past him and shook his head sadly. He’d been an idiot. How could he have convinced himself that Harry actually liked him back? Finally after years of waiting he’d persuaded his pessimistic self that his best friend was showing signs that he knew how Ron felt and that he felt the same. But no, he’d just found someone else…

_I don't dance 'cause tonight you love somebody, somebody new._

Unconsciously, he sipped the beer in his hand as the DJ shouted something over the mic which the crowd yelled at enthusiastically, and glanced at Seamus talking to someone in the distance. It was hard to see him through the flashing lights and huge crowd of jumping people but he would be able to tell his friend’s expression even without looking. He didn’t know how his old dorm mate could just walk up to people and start chatting them up; well, Seamus had always been a people person and was hardly what you’d call shy. But still, in the time it had taken Ron to go to the bar, share an awkward conversation with one of Seamus’ friends and drink half of his beer Seamus had already chatted up, disappeared with and then reappeared with three separate guys; he looked like he hadn’t even broken a sweat. The red-head near the bar almost laughed as he watched his friend melt into the crowd, heading towards the toilets, new man in tow. Seamus’ friend from work said something else and Ron turned, straining to hear as a new track began blaring out. He nodded vaguely, unable to hear or really care about what had been said and the pair just looked back out at the crowd. As always, his thoughts turned back to Harry.

_I don’t wanna grow up_

In the flush of adolescence he’d had the wonderful excuse of hormones. I’m turned on by my best mate: hormones. I get a stiffy when he puts his hand on my shoulder or we bump arms accidently: hormones. Sometimes when we’re playing Quidditch I get distracted by him because I find the way he flies so graceful and powerful: hormones. I want to spend the rest of my life with him…hormones? Although confusing, his feelings had been easier to manage, well, lock away and try not to think about. But now all those excuses were gone and he was left with the bare truth. He loved Harry in every sense of the word and wanted nothing more to be with him, be with him properly.

_I know it's a little bit sad and strange_

Hermione had been unbelievably understanding when he’d finally told her. They’d been dating for a few months after the end of the War and he thought she would have hit the roof, either in disgust or hurt, but actually she’d suspected it all along. Shaking his head he took another sip, mind going through all of the times he’d confided in her and she’d tried to help him work through his feelings. He didn’t know what he would have done without her support. Obviously they’d split pretty soon after he’d told her, despite him actually thinking they could still make it work – both knowing that nothing would ever happen between Ron and Harry – Hermione looked at him almost sympathetically, patting him on the hand and shaking her head. Hermione didn’t come second to anyone and although a bit disappointed to lose her, Ron had to agree that it wouldn’t be fair on her if they’d continued to be together. In fact, he felt a lot better when he’d met her next boyfriend, old feelings of jealousy towards the likes of Krum or Cormac gone; now that he he’d had a little experience in the difficulties of relationships, he really appreciated finding a balanced partnership and thought no one deserved it more than Hermione. Well, maybe Harry, but dammit not with some bi-

“Come on Ron! Dance with me!” Jumping a little at the shout right by his ear, he shook his head with what he hoped was a good-natured smile and then watched Seamus drag his other friend onto the dance floor. And Seamus too.

Ron snorted to himself, turns out he talks about Harry a lot, without even realising it, and apparently he would talk about him in a way that normal best friends just don’t do. It hadn’t taken Seamus long to bluntly state his suspicions and for Ron to crack and admit them. He’d been afraid of being teased or misunderstood but it turned out that Seamus was the perfect confidante, bringing the right amount of sensitivity into his blokish advice, which mainly consisted of partying and getting laid. Ron had refused until the bombshell had hit. As the dust settled, he had started to feel more and more alone until he’d panicked and agreed to do stupid things like clubbing and considering dating some of Seamus’ other friends. Not actually doing it, just thinking about it…

_I don’t wanna dance, I feel betrayed_

In the weeks before the ‘big news’, Harry had been saying more and more how much their friendship meant to him, looking Ron deep in the eye and telling him how important Ron was, how treasured in his heart. What could that have possibly meant apart from something deeper than friendship? But no, Ron had somehow completely misinterpreted him. Harry had only got a new girlfriend and he supposed he had wanted Ron to know that their friendship wouldn’t be affected. He knew that he should be happy for his best friend; goodness knows that ever since his break-up with Ginny Harry hadn’t had much luck with girls. But he didn’t want things to stay the same. He hated all this; it felt like Harry was cheating on him. He drank some more, finishing the bottle, he was being ridiculous, he had no right to think about Harry like that, let alone feel like he had any claim to him.

_I stay alone in the shade_

Fed up of the crowd he set down his beer on a table and went outside for some air. There were a few people hanging around smoking, a few groups walking to and from the Muggle club on the crisp evening. Wandering over to the railings by the side of the road he leant against them, feeling the cool steel under his fingers, trying to steady his spinning head. He’d never been one for the limelight even though it wasn’t until after 6th Year that he’d fully realised that; being celebrated on the Quidditch pitch had brought unwanted consequences, namely Lavender. He shivered, crossing his arms across his chest and rubbing them slightly. Nothing compared to being friends with Harry, even if he always came second, or third; even if he was over-looked by most of the people he knew, it wouldn’t matter as long as Harry noticed him. As long as Harry cared who he was then that was good enough for him. That comfort was fading fast though, the centre of his world shifting away from him.

_Now you, dance to, our songs with someone new_

Who was this ‘Quinn’ anyway? What sort of name was that? He knew she was a Healer and she’s ‘hilarious’ according to Harry. Ron snorted, painfully aware of his childish envy: he thought that he was the funny one. He didn’t even know what she looked like. How could Harry date someone he didn’t even know? And for so long? Harry deliberately hadn’t told him any of those details but Hermione had let slip, perhaps not-so-accidentally, that they’d been going out for at least a few weeks before Harry had told him. It just hurt. Did they laugh at him behind his back? Ron didn’t really want to know the answers to those questions. In his head she was a screeching air-head who’d tricked Harry into going out with her and he liked it that way.

_I don’t wanna let go on the floor tonight._

“There you are!” He was pulled from his thoughts by the cheery Irish man and for a second was grateful that at least someone hadn’t given up on noticing him. “Come on Ron! I have the perfect bloke for you…” That gratitude faded. He didn’t want anyone else; no one else would do, ever. No one could ever measure up. It was sad and pathetic but there it was. He was Harry’s, even if his love didn’t know it. He shook his head with a tired smile, thanked Seamus, made his excuses and left.

_…it's such a mess and I can't escape this emptiness_

He couldn’t imagine not loving his best friend like he did, he’d felt that way for so long. Arriving back at the flat he let himself in, took in the darkness and collapsed onto the sofa; crossing his arms and bringing his knees up to his chest he sighed; he had coped with this secret through school, the War, the flirting with Cho, and the dating of his own sister, he could weather the storm of Quinn. He could wait it out. But then what? If that relationship didn’t become a marriage it wouldn’t end with her, the bottom line was that Harry was straight and that he was forever out of reach. Ron knew that he’d have to get over his best friend eventually, just…just not yet. Head on his knees he rocked a little. Now he would wallow shamelessly, he recalled the words of the last song blaring in the club.

_...you love somebody, somebody new_


	6. You're Beautiful

_I saw an angel, of that I’m sure_

Happiness filled Harry as he woke up hearing that sweet voice. He lay in his bed listening to Ron’s soft song wafting in from the living room; smiling he recognised the song and forgetting all else just lost himself in the beauty of it. The beauty of the song and his friend’s voice. Soft and plaintive, Harry had always marvelled at how a male voice could be so gentle without being feminine. Ron could belt if he wanted to, with a powerful chest voice; but Harry always thought he was suited best to soulful ballads, accompanied by just a guitar or just a capella. Just like now, casually singing a song just to himself; finding the exact emotional pitches in songs was something that Ron did well. Granted he did a lot of fun, goofy songs to make people laugh but Harry could think of dozens of occasions in which Ron had sung a simple ballad without any music and Harry had become completely lost within the melodies and the poetry of them.

Smiling to himself, he got up and wandered into the kitchen casually, coughing slightly as he entered. Blushing, Ron turned, clamped his lips together and avoided Harry’s eyes, muttering good morning. Harry sighed as he knew that Ron probably had his self-deprecating inner voice talking right then, he thought Ron was a gorgeous singer, not that he’d use the word ‘gorgeous’ out loud. But it was still true that his best friend had a soulful voice. Sitting down and pouring out some cereal, Harry thought more about his still-blushing friend.

Through his blokish mannerisms and sometimes gruff demeanour, Ron was just a big softie, something which everyone that knew him had seen occasionally but not only that, Ron could be a real romantic. Of course, it was more his intentions and emotions rather than his actions that were heartfelt, often making faux-pas in his efforts to please Hermione over the years. But when he talked honestly about how he felt, it could be really poetic. Harry knew this because whilst he was dating Hermione after the war, Ron would often talk to him about the ups and downs. On long drinking sessions in the early hours of the morning he’d describe his frustrations and his simple desire to just be loved, always looking straight into Harry’s eyes, an unasked question in them. Harry would nod and sip his beer, wishing he could help the pair work it all out and not understanding what was going wrong, at least on Ron’s side. If he really did feel all of the things he was saying, why didn’t he just tell her? And if he had, what was she thinking to let him go?

_…she was with another man_

There was an uncomfortable quiet as they ate, Ron avoiding looking at him. Harry was beginning to get frustrated at being cut off like this; he didn’t want this to change just because he had a girlfriend, just because Ron had to share him with someone else. He was also annoyed at being left out of Ron’s new relationship; there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that if his flatmate wasn’t dating someone, he definitely at least fancied someone new. Something had changed lately and it set his teeth grinding to know that Ron was keeping it a secret. Though he wasn’t outwardly displeased about the girlfriend, Harry could tell that Ron was still unhappy with him dating Quinn. If only he could just insert his perception of her into Ron’s head; maybe he should arrange a meeting… No, Ron would just bring his prejudices and fit her into the bad girlfriend role. Sighing, he got up to get dressed to meet up with Quinn.

_You’re beautiful_

The park by her shared flat was quite small but very pretty, the stretch of grass divided by blooming flower beds and happy little benches, Harry snorted, that’s what Quinn called them. Hearing his name, he turned and saw her at the gate; those dark eyes greeted him joyfully. Despite her exotic and sultry features, she really was a happy-go-lucky girl. Feeling the warm breeze blow against his back, Harry stepped back and just looked at her, answering her playful question almost breathlessly.

“You’re beautiful.” And she was. She had black hair that curled down to her shoulders, framing her tanned opal-shaped face; dark brown eyes sparkled through long lashes and her nose was quite long, centre of her perfect face. Her figure was something else. The same height as him, her limbs long looking and sinuous, her hips full and waist small; she fulfilled Seamus’ description of the perfect female body. There were imperfections, although he didn’t register them, Harry knew that if he cared to look for them, he’d see them. She smiled with shy lips at his comment, reminding him suddenly of whenever Ron received a compliment; he had fuller lips that would half-pout as his eyes narrowed a little, as if trying to work out if the compliment-giver was being serious. She nudged him on the arm with her knuckles.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He snorted and took her hand. They sat down and ate their picnic, enjoying the light breeze and pleasant conversation. She made him laugh with her impressions of the stern Head Healer and one of the janitors and he told her about his troubles with one of his cases. In between stories he fed her strawberries and she kissed the juice all around his mouth, laughing as he tried to lick it off with his tongue. All the while they were talking, Harry was thinking about he could show Ron how great she was and how Ron needed someone like this to make him happier. The sun grew weak in the sky and eventually they parted, hands lingering on each other, eyes flickering over their faces and parting sadly. Getting back to the flat, Harry saw Ron reading Quidditch Weekly on the sofa and sat across from him, putting his bag down and making small talk.

“Hey, you know you’ve been going out with Seamus lately…?” His friend was instantly on alert, his body tensed as he looked over at Harry a little worriedly.

“Yeah…?”

“You been…getting any?”

“Harry!” Ron looked shocked, though Harry could see the twinkle in his eye and knew he was doing an impression of his mother.

“What? It’s a perfectly normal question between guy friends.” Ron’s smile wavered a bit.

“Right. Well,” He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, face still red and for a moment Harry actually thought he would launch into a conquest story. No, not ‘conquest’, Ron wouldn’t have had ‘conquests’; a….he didn’t want to know and sighed in relief as Ron went on. “No, I haven’t.” Harry smiled sympathetically, not feeling as bad as he should but then there was more stuttering out from that mouth. “I mean, Seamus has…has offered to,” Harry could feel the heat radiating from his friend’s cheeks as he leaned in and half-whispered. “…set me up.” Fighting the sudden urge to start shouting that it was a terrible idea, Harry almost gasped at his reaction, trying to keep his voice steady as he asked softly.

“Well, why don’t you?” The red-head shrugged, avoiding those searching green eyes again.

“I don’t know I just…” His throat constricted as no sound came out, eyes searching the whole room for inspiration. Harry gulped down the bile in his throat and made a mental note never to complain about Ron’s animosity towards his relationship, fully understanding the irrationality and force of such feelings of…of ownership.

“Come on,” He nudged the taller one, forcing himself to keep the tone playful. “Can’t keep those good looks all locked away.” Laughing awkwardly, Ron shrugged his shoulders and Harry thought his expression was just…he didn’t know it just warmed him.

_You’re beautiful, it’s true_

“Ron?” He almost stopped as he saw that warm face, eyebrows raised, expression wary. “Do you have a…a type?” He laughed at himself for his wording and Ron smiled a little, reacting to his laugh. “I mean, what do you look for in a woman?”

“A woman?” Ron’s expression was unusually hard to make out; he looked like he was caught between surprise, anger and laughter. Finally, he blinked, snorting a little with mirth and Harry relaxed, not even knowing that he’d been tense, he went on.

_I don’t know what to do_

“Yeah…I mean you’ve never really mentioned, liking anyone, apart from Hermione of course…” Ron coughed.

“I…I guess I never really thought about it.” He looked like he wasn’t about to offer anything more and disappointed but not wanting to push it, Harry just accepted Ron’s shrug and dropped it.

_‘Cause I’ll never be with you_


	7. Fallen For You

_Fallen for you, did you ever see me? Watching from periphery._

Ron sat on the window seat in his bedroom, staring out at the grey rain, his palm flat against the glass absorbing the cold of the pane. His bedroom faced the courtyard in between the apartment buildings, their flat on the third floor so as he looked down the people walking past seemed so small. The maple tree on the corner of the courtyard was hanging over, branches almost long enough to scrap against his window. Sighing, putting his forehead against the glass and not removing it though the cold made him flinch, he saw the bushes and branches swing to the side suddenly, a strong wind pulling them down. He felt numb watching the ferocity outside but the muted sound of the rain and wind weighed heavily on him, so he pottered to the kitchen and scrolled down his iPod for something appropriate. Seeing a particular song, he sighed, of course, it was so obvious. Putting it on, he looked around the little kitchen.

_Thought about you all the time…like a rhyme in my mind_

His head hadn’t been working properly recently, he’d been having trouble concentrating especially around the cause of his ponderings, but also at work. His editor was getting even more snappy than usual and Ron knew vaguely that he’d have to work extra hard to make up for all the time he’d wasted just staring into middle-distance. Gods, he couldn’t think let alone cook. Bending down he pulled out a saucepan from a low cupboard, put it on the hob a little hard, making a clang; reaching up to pull a soup tin from the cupboard above it he grumbled to himself, Harry would just have to like it. Ron opened the can and poured the soup, his actions almost mechanical, his arms and fingers working without instruction from his absent mind. All that was in his head was that he just knew he was going to have a serious conversation when his flatmate got back.

It was the six month anniversary today. Harry had mentioned the occasion but not his plans, looking nervously at Ron when he’d broached the subject. Oh Merlin’s balls, even though it was already the day, Ron knew that Harry was planning on asking him to do something to do with it. Maybe meet her? No, that would be a very far from romantic occasion. It could be a request to help him think of a proper gift? Fat chance. Ron had a hard enough time buying presents for people he knew, let alone this stranger he hated. Well, whatever it was Ron knew that he would kick up a fuss but ultimately relent, unable to hurt Harry in any capacity for any reason, especially for such a selfish one. Merlin knew he felt so selfish then. The memory of the look on Harry’s face as he had mentioned it swirled around his head, it had been a few days ago and although Ron had tried to avoid looking at him he couldn’t help himself. It had been all he’d got to remain gruff and not be softened by the hopeful gleam in those emerald eyes. Even that morning when he’d stayed up all night angrily thinking about the sense of betrayal he felt, just Harry murmuring through his bedroom door had him relenting. He hadn’t remembered most of what his flatmate had said, still half-asleep, and now he guessed that Harry had explained that he’d be late as the sky was darker than the usual time he came home. The miserable red-head stared out of the kitchen window so lost in his head he just stood still, elbows on the counter, chin propped up in open palms as the soup began to burn.

_Falling from view, did you ever touch me?_

The week before, in a leafy suburb, Ron, Harry, Hermione and her boyfriend Isaac apparated back to Hermione and Isaac’s flat. They’d come from Sunday lunch from the Burrow, popping in for another drink and just to catch up, not really having the chance in the chaos that was a Weasley meal. Luckily, though Isaac had quite a small family, he was no stranger to large gatherings due to his father’s Ministry job, which involved holding lots of functions which Isaac had been dragged into. Once they’d got over the shock of Hermione definitively moving on from Ron, everyone grew to like and admire the guy: he was a tall, dark handsome lawyer in Wizengamort, pureblood but his family had never been affiliated with the Dark Arts, Harry had made sure. Well-mannered and with a wicked tongue he’d fast become a favourite with all three generations of the Weasley family, Mrs Weasley approving of his politeness, the Weasley children warming to his wit and the Teddy and Dominique just liking the funny faces he made for them. Settling down in the front room, the four were conversing comfortably, Isaac moulding to the three’s banter.

It had quickly become obvious to Isaac how close they all were but it hadn’t daunted him, he understood close friendships, knowing they were hard to come by and incalculably valuable once found. He hadn’t even been fazed that Ron and Hermione had previously dated, even before he’d guessed the real reason he could just sense that there was no lingering romantic love between them, the same as there was nothing but platonic feelings between his girlfriend and Harry. Everyone agreed how lucky Hermione was for finding someone who just completely understood her and her past without being there, to which Isaac, Ron and Harry would exclaim that it was they who were the lucky ones. Ron and Isaac soon became deeply involved in a conversation about the Cannon’s chances and so Hermione motioned for Harry to help her in the kitchen.

_I was playing another game, I hoped you catch on all the same_

“So you met Harry’s new girl yet?” Isaac had a firm impression about her from Hermione’s knowledge and Ginny’s speculation; in his head she was sharp, witty and beautiful, a true equal to Harry despite Hermione’s thinly-veiled worry. Coming out of his head he noticed the long delay in response and saw Ron avoiding his eyes before muttering.

“No, not yet.” He recognised that mixture of dislike and jealousy and almost smiled, already knowing this to be a typical Ron-expression.

“Oh, so it’s like that huh?” Eyes wide, Ron blurted.

“Like what?” Isaac almost laughed at Ron’s wary suspicion but the fear inherent in it sobered him up. He’d only known the red-head for a short while but he had figured him out quite quickly, especially his relationship with Harry. Poor guy. He changed the subject, putting the fretting man out of his misery.

_Boy who’s trying to be a man, boy who don’t know if he can_

“So it’s our sixth month anniversary next week…” Pouring out the boiled water into the tea-bagged mugs, Hermione raised her eyebrows without looking up.

“Oh, what are you going to do?” Watching the tea infuse in the mugs he smiled.

“I thought I’d cook her a nice meal, with some candles and bit of music...” His friend smiled sweetly at him before her eyes flickered as she asked.

“At yours?” The mood fell as he sensed her hesitation, coil in his stomach twisting.

“Yeah…what?” Putting the kettle down, she went straight to the point.

“Have you told Ron?” Her hard and yet cautious look just broke his patience and he blurted out, face red.

“Why should I have to keep on being sensitive to Ron’s issues!” Realising he’d been raising his voice, he instantly brought it down, hunching a little as they both paused, sighing with relief as they didn’t hear the conversation in the living room break. Hermione’s frustrated tones were lowered but the intensity remained as her eyes widened as she responded.

“Why Harry? Because he does the same for you! He’s always done it for you!” Guilty, he tried to squash those feelings and went on quietly in a strained voice.

“Look, I know it’s hard on him. I do! I’m not happy that Ron’s not with anyone and he’s weird about me being with Quinn but what else can I do?” She sighed, her face clearly displaying her lack of an answer and just looked at him sadly. He cleared his throat and helped her carry the drinks into the sitting room.

_And I hoped the day could be when you’d write a song for me_

Ron sat watching Harry and the happy couple chatting over their mugs of tea. Blinking, he stared down into his tea, growing cold his hand. He inwardly cringed as he remembered how he’d overreacted to Isaac’s innocent questioning. Remembering the feeling of panic, he held back a sigh and a shake of his head. This was ridiculous, jumping at any mention of that woman; something had to change. He had to just be okay with it, he had to stop being so childish; maybe if he met someone of his own he could… He gulped down his tea and set the mug down; it was time to floo Seamus.

_But I was wrong, so wrong_

“Dinner’s ruined.” Harry’s mouth was frozen open, stunned by Ron’s snappy tone and his very presence. “The soup burnt.” Harry had just entered the kitchen hurriedly, eager to get started on dinner for Quinn when he’d been almost winded to see Ron standing arms crossed as he stared angrily at a smoking pan in the sink. For a moment he wondered why Ron was there, hadn’t he just told him only that morning about his plans and that he’d wanted the flat to himself and received a…a sleepy reply. Oh, he hadn’t, oh no! He’s such an idiot, chickening out and pretending it was okay to just accept a weak ‘uhuh’ as acceptance. Wincing, he put his shopping bags down on the table and raised his arms to start damage control as he saw that tense frame and cursed himself again, lowering his arms and offering weakly.

“I’m sorry I was late, how bout I take care of…?” Cautiously pleased that he had only got grumbling as a response, Harry turned the tap on as Ron slumped into a seat looking slightly sheepish but still not apologetic. Harry put several cleaning spells on the water in the pan, leaving it to soak as heard the bags on the table rustling.

“So you going to take her out or something then?” Harry closed his eyes and breathed before turning round, taking in Ron looking curiously into the bags before venturing.

“Actually I’m going to cook.” Ron snorted at his before his expression fell as he realised the implication. Harry went on quickly. “Yeah I know, I’m really nervous about it and I…I asked this morning but I guess you didn’t. Well, I was wondering if…” He trailed off, feeling terrible and eventually Ron whispered.

“You want me to leave?” There was horrible silence.

_I thought I knew you well enough, but your walls are still too tough_

“Ron…” Mouth curling into a feral snarl the red-head shook off the tentative hand on his shoulder. “I just want…” His friend stood abruptly.

“It’s like you don’t even see me anymore!” Harry shook his head, angered by this ridiculously confusing accusation.

“What are you talking about?”

This seemed to make Ron even angrier but his temper was reined in by a flash of hurt.

“You know what? Forget it!” His voice was loud but there were very noticeable cracks in it. Harry found himself horrified and mildly panicked when his flatmate pushed past him and strode away. He started after him, having to almost trot behind him to match his pace, he called angrily.

“What are you doing?”

_I’ll go now_

“I’m leaving!” Ron shouted, snapping his head around slowing his rapid pace, voice becoming hoarse as he added in a bitter mutter. “That’s what you asked me to do.”

“Wait-” The door slamming stopped him and Harry was left alone in the corridor. His shoulders slumped, eyebrows pressing together as his outreached hand wavered in the air. He felt pressure build up behind his eyes and the pit in his stomach throw itself wider into a fathomless darkness. It wasn’t his fault Ron got offended, he hadn’t done anything just asked for the flat for a few hours. It wasn’t his fault. Then why did he still feel guilty?

_That was just another song you wrote, for another girl_

He couldn’t leave it like this, not for a second longer; Harry reached out for the door when he heard a faint pop from outside. Joy lifted his stomach high and his lips drew into a relieved smile as he flung open the door to apologise-

“Hey lover boy!” She had a gorgeous summery dress on, showing off her shapely legs and desirable curves, she was smiling wider than he’d ever seen her smile. He couldn’t hide his disappointment.

_…your walls are still too tough_


	8. There's A Fine, Fine Line

_There’s a fine, fine line, between a lover and a friend_

Shit. Oh shit. What the hell happened last night? Groaning as his head pounded, Ron closed his eyes again and lay back down, regretting sitting up too fast, regretting recognising whose bedroom he was in, regretting realising that he was naked. He sighed, listening to the sound of his friend in the kitchen. The pulse in his skull refused to let him crawl back into sleep, his throat dry and tongue swollen in his mouth he swallowed pitifully, almost whining with how rotten he felt. How much had he drunk last night? A few minutes later, the door creaked open and Ron blushed royally as Seamus came in. He sat up, pulling the covers over himself and taking the offered mug of steaming coffee, avoiding his friend’s eyes. Dressed only in boxers himself, Seamus sat down on the edge of the bed and sipped his own coffee. Ron tried to remember that Seamus was always slightly moody when hung-over and that he wasn’t being silent because he felt weird about last night. But then again he had no idea how much Seamus had actually drunk and why he’d allowed Ron to end up naked in his own bed. Drinking his coffee tentatively, he waited for his friend to start, which he did in time.

“You alright?” Grunting a little Ron shrugged, mirroring the question in a hoarse voice. He got a similar reply from the tired-looking Irishman and for another few minutes they sat in silence, drinking cautiously. Finishing his mug, Seamus stood and went to his dresser, pulling out two phials and handing Ron one. “I find it works better after coffee.” Gratefully, the red-head downed the potion in one and instantly felt better. Breathing in deeply, he knew he had to clear the air.

“So, last night, did we…?” The blonde nodded, looking at his feet, a little ashamed.

“I didn’t, I didn’t meant to take advantage of you.” Perplexed but relaxing at this Ron smiled a little as he adopted his best Irish accent to say Seamus’ favourite defences of one-night stands.

“Oh but Seamus! If two consenting adults can’t have a bit of fun, what’s the point in living?” Now grinning, Seamus laughed, sitting back down and nudging his friend.

“That is very true, where’d you here that?”

“Thought of it meself!” Smiling at each other, neither needed to confirm that their friendship was unchanged, that this wasn’t the start of anything more.

_There’s a fine, fine line between reality and pretend_

The most coherent memory from the previous night had been his fight with Harry. His rage mostly directed at himself for not realising that Harry would have plans and not want Ron around, shamed by how he’d made a complete tit of himself and bitter that it hurt so much. He’d shouted and had to pull away to stop himself destroying half the flat; storming out of the house he’d apparated straight over to Seamus’, ready for a hell of a lot of Firewhisky. And he’d got it. Seamus had been winding down until he would go out in a few hours’ time, but as soon as he’d seen the teary-eyed Ron, he had cancelled immediately, pouring out numerous shots and declaring it a night to forget.

_You never know till you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb_

Harry woke up that morning feeling worried. He didn’t remember why until he stretched out his cricked neck and worked out why he’d slept on it funny on the sofa. Looking around he blinked, looking at the spotless living room, had someone cleaned up? Oh right, it had been him, he’d been tiding up whilst he was waiting for…Jumping up, despite his protesting neck, he half-raced to his friend’s room and felt his stomach drop as he found it empty.

Ron hadn’t come home. His rationality telling him that he’d probably gone to Hermione or Seamus’ and was perfectly fine was a very weak voice in his frantic head; it was always overpowered by the fierce protective roar when Ron was involved.

Quinn had been particularly charming that evening; more beautiful than ever, her eyes sparkling and her slender hands patting him reassuringly. She’d also been very understanding when he’d finally cracked and told her about his argument with Ron earlier. Nodding, finally understanding Harry’s slightly off-mood, she hadn’t taken offence that their evening had been side-tracked for a while as they’d talked about solutions. Harry couldn’t help but think that he had found his own Isaac, someone who could understand and accept his past and his friends. Talk to him. That was basically what her advice came down to, and though he could have gone on and on about it he thanked her and tried to move the conversation on. But his heart wasn’t in it and smiling knowingly, she’d left soon after, kind eyes calming him as she kissed him goodbye, thanked him for the lovely dinner and assured him that everything would work out. He’d nodded, mouth twitching into a sad smile as he’d seen her off before rushing round the house cleaning up to avoid the obvious absence.

_There’s a fine, fine line between what you wanted and what you got_

Getting dressed, Ron went over his other clear memory from the previous night. After his fifth or maybe sixth tumbler of something alcoholic, he had shaken his head wearily, sitting on the floor with his back leaning against Seamus’ sofa. He spoke though the quiet.

“I just feel like shit all the time.” Turning his head to ask for his friend’s opinion, he saw those bright eyes now heavy-lidded, looking at his lips. Licking them almost self-consciously he found his own eyes dragging down to look at those plump little li- Suddenly they were kissing. Opening his mouth hungrily, he groaned feeling that strong tongue slippery and warm, filling his mouth and wrestling with his own. Gods this was good. Hearing low growls and groans from Seamus he moved closer, clumsy hands tugging on material as that wicked mouth and strong hands up and down his back made him shiver. Pulling away a little, green eyes in his head staring angrily at him, Ron gulped and heard a soft slur from his equally drunk friend.

“Sorry mate, I just get so horny when I’m drunk.” Looking down at Seamus’ trousers Ron laughed.

“You’re kidding!” Looking at those cheeky lips, still very close to his own slight smile, he couldn’t decide how it compared kissing Hermione, though it couldn’t be as good as that confused kiss he’d shared with…Ron wasn’t sure about anything at that moment, just that he needed something to distract him from his misery; Seamus didn’t seem to have any reservations so he didn’t think, just pounced.

_I don’t have the time to waste on you anymore_

Still glad that he and Seamus had managed to part on good terms and remain friends, Ron was filled with nerves and apprehension as he approached his and Harry’s flat. They’d always managed to move past every argument even if it had taken them awhile, but maybe his precious girlfriend’s visit had softened his friend up. Opening the door, Ron heard a noise from inside and was greeted by a wild-haired and almost breathless speckled form. Still feeling a little hurt from before, Ron noted that the other man had his arms half-raised as if about to hug him before they fell to his sides with his face following suit.

“I’m sorry Ron, I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t him admitting to dumping that woman, it wasn’t him asking him out or declaring his undying love for him, but for Ron, those words were enough. He smiled a little sheepishly and shrugged.

“I’m sorry too, I was being childish.” After they’d finished their gentle ‘it was me not you’ argument, both smiled and Ron accepted that offered hug from earlier. Breathing in deep, almost being overwhelmed by that familiar scent, he knew he would do anything to keep on smelling it. So as they wondered into the kitchen and he saw the washing up from the anniversary dinner he breathed in deeply and began as strongly as he could.

“I was thinking of doing something special on Friday, something like a full roast dinner.” Harry nodded, still eager to please the not-as-brooding-as-he-could-have-been red-head when he was left shocked as Ron continued. “…you could invite Quinn.”

“Really?” If Harry hadn’t been so shocked he would have noticed how fake Ron’s casual shrug and smile were.

“Well, if you think she’d want to.”

“Oh, of course! Of course, she’d love to, love to meet you.” A little too breezy, Ron smiled as he dropped his keys onto the hall table and wondered to the bathroom, murmuring to himself.

“Great.” Harry watched him go, closing his mouth slowly, unable to decide how to take this.

_I don’t think you even know what you’re looking for_

Friday night arrived quickly; delicious smells came from the kitchen as well the powerful chorus of a big ballad from a musical washing over a nervous Harry, who was fiddling with the objects on the book shelves in the living room. Rubbing his hands on a dishcloth, Ron came in and smiled gently as Harry turned around, trying to hide his nervousness.

“Everything symmetrical?” Snorting good-naturedly Harry elbowed him gently and forced himself not to do another sweep of the room or straighten his clothes. There was knock on the front door and Harry darted to answer it. Quinn was breath-taking as ever, dressed in a little black dress with her hair tied up in a bun but two loose curled strands framing her face and smoky eye make-up. Harry hugged her and then stepped back so she could walk into the living room with Harry right behind her.

For a dreadful moment, Ron just stared at her, eyes shining and expression one of surprise. But he gulped and leant forward to kiss her on both cheeks like Harry guessed Hermione had told him to, speaking in a cheery voice.

“Wow, you were right Harry, she is beautiful!” Quinn smiled but Harry could sense how forced the compliment had been. Carrying on with his gracious host behaviour, Ron took her coat and offered her a choice of drink as Harry hung back, watching the pair nervously. When his friend left to put the coat away and fetch the wine, Harry pulled her into a quick kiss, smiling as he pulled away. She grinned back, saying under breath.

“So far so good.”

She had spoken too soon. The food was delicious and Ron must have researched his wines because it went well with the roast but for the first two courses, Harry was half-annoyed at and half-worried for his friend. He swung from being overly complimentary and attentive to distant and although not impolite, just disinterested in the conversation, staring at the wall and leaving him and Quinn to feel like they were being watched whilst out on a date. The Healer of course sensed this strange behaviour but she wasn’t cowed easily.

“So Ron, Harry tells me you’re a journalist.” Turning his head back to the table, Ron blinked before smiling ambiguously.

“Did he now?” Harry tensed at the slightly unpleasant tone and considered kicking said journalist under the table before Quinn quickly went on.

“Yes, he’s always going on about what a great writer you are, I like watching Quidditch but how do you write about it so poetically?” Seeing his friend’s startled expression from the corner of his eye, Ron put down his wine glass.

“Poetically?” Harry met his gaze, slightly embarrassed that his interest in his friend’s articles had just been outed, but simultaneously wanting him to know how good his work was. Ron’s eyes were guarded for a second before he breathed in, turned to Quinn and answered her question in earnest.

_For my own sanity I’ve got to close the door and walk away_

From then on Ron was more consistently friendly and out-going; though he wasn’t his usual self, Harry noted his efforts and was intensely grateful for them. To Quinn who had no previous encounters to compare it to, thought that Harry’s reluctance to introduce them had been unfounded, putting Ron’s previous inconsistent behaviour to hazing or something. After dessert, Quinn was telling the story of how she’d had to remove a frog from a patient’s belly button, Ron looking politely bored, but when she’d said the punch line suddenly Ron sat up and laughed. Harry looked very surprised at this but Quinn smiled and laughed along, releasing more nervous tension from her shoulders as Ron offered her more wine. The red-head told some of his own anecdotes, especially the ones which involved embarrassing Harry, making the pretty woman giggle and Harry smile sheepishly.

_I guess if someone doesn't love you back it isn't such a crime._

He should have been over the moon. Finally the two most important people in his life were getting on. He paused, almost dropping the plate he was levitating over to the washboard; was Quinn really the second most important person in his life? God knows he…well, he really liked her. If nothing else, she was the closest woman he’d met to actually loving, the potential was so clear. So the fact that she and his best friend in all the world were being friendly and not bitter was fantastic. Should be fantastic.

Suddenly realising that he was in the kitchen alone, he rushed into the living room to see Ron explaining some of the photos on the wall to Quinn. She was giggling at the one of the Trio in their first year, the picture from Harry’s scrapbook which Hermione had copied and given to them in a frame as a house warming gift. All of them had such fond memories of Hogwarts, especially the earlier years, and moving so he could see Ron’s expression, he saw a fondness that was surely mirrored on his own face. Sensing his presence, his girlfriend turned and encircled an arm around him as he came nearer. She pecked him on the cheek, laughing affectionately.

“You were too cute.” Although very conscious of the other presence beside them, he made himself relax and continue as normal.

“Were?!” Ron snorted but when Harry glanced at him over Quinn’s head, he saw that his friend was still looking at the picture, a guarded expression on his face.

_There’s a fine, fine line between love…_

They talked for a bit more but Quinn begged an early start on her weekend shift and Ron dutifully collected her coat. Harry saw Quinn off at the door, both unable to talk with Ron waving from behind him so just exchanged a kick kiss on the cheek and relaxed smiles. Closing the door he turned and found a comfortable Ron who nudged him.

“Got a keeper there mate!” Throat dry, he thanked the cheery red-head and set about clearing away the empty glasses. He desperately wanted to ask whether Ron had given Quinn a ‘hurt him and die’ talk or something when they’d been alone but refrained, figuring he’d have sensed the atmosphere change. No, for some reason he was still wary about the whole situation without knowing why; not that he thought Ron was plotting something, he seemed genuinely happy for him. Was that the problem? He shook his head and tried to be happy for himself.

_…and a waste of time._


	9. If She Breaks Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to say that the song is 'If He Breaks Your Heart' by Jeremy Warmsley, but obviously I changed the gender to fit.

_If she treats you right I will be her friend_

A few days after the successful dinner, Ginny came round to visit her favourite brother and ex, very pleased with this latest development and proposing they go out and celebrate. Despite Ron’s seeming acceptance of the relationship, Harry thought that this would be a step too far and had opened his mouth to say so when Ron had nodded.

“Sounds great! We should go to that new place in Hogsmeade.” Harry had stared at his friend’s smile and didn’t speak for few moments as the siblings argued about the new pub. It had been as if someone had flicked a switch in Ron’s head; he was suddenly fine with the relationship, almost supportive. There was little to no resentment in his eyes and although with a forced cheeriness, his questions about her were no longer bitter sounding. Whilst this type of U-turn behaviour wasn’t unusual from Ron, especially when he’d been sulking or complaining about something, it still unsettled Harry. And he asked a lot of questions, so much so it made Harry’s head spin. Maybe Ron had realised their friendship wouldn’t be affected, maybe he was starting to trust Quinn…Though when he’d related his theories to Hermione she seemed unsure; though to be honest, to Harry’s annoyance, she seemed to be in doubt over the whole thing. Out of all the people he’d told about the new balance in his life, his work mates and the Weasley’s, she’d been the least enthusiastic; strange that she’d known him the longest and best, apart from Ron, and she couldn’t see how happy this was making him? He shook his head and forced himself to concentrate on the debate and side with Ron, desperately wanting his good mood to continue.

  _If she hangs around like an awful smell I will have some words_

The Three-Headed Dog was a new pub set-up by a few former Hogwarts students right on the corner of the high street in Hogsmeade. It was smaller than the Three Broomsticks but had a younger feel to it, most of the patrons just having graduated. Hagrid had suggested the name of course. Ron looked around their little group sitting on a table by a window; Harry and Hermione were talking about a new law case coming up whilst Quinn was entertaining Ginny with another of her funny stories. They were all happy, why couldn’t he be? He knew retreating into his head whilst in company wasn’t a great move, especially considering the awkward looks he’d received from Harry during that dreadful dinner he’d somehow volunteered himself. Quinn hadn’t seemed to notice his strange behaviour even though she seemed tense and nervous, but when Ron had forced himself to relax she’d followed suit and damn, she was everything Harry had made her out to be: beautiful, intelligent, witty and just... His sister giggled, almost snorting, and by the way the pair was sitting, Ron could see they would get along really well; images of the girlfriend meeting the rest of his family flashed across his mind, oh Gods, they were all going to love her. Biting down on the emotions threatening to spill over his face, Ron snapped at himself. _No, you are being supportive now!_ Lying in bed the evening after he’d finally met her, Ron had marked that night as the point of no return; he’d moped and mourned enough. If nothing else he knew that Harry would always be his closest friend and that was going to have to be enough, he had to move on. He’d made a note to go round to see Seamus to help him with that, before rolling over and trying to sleep. Snapping back to the pub, Quinn got up to get another round and unable to stand the hushed conversation from the girls about how great she was, he followed.

_If she breaks your heart I will end her_

She stood at the bar, slender and confident, so beautiful. Ron remembered the first time he’d seen her and how confused he’d felt in the face of her beauty. Should he be jealous? No, that was a girly thing to be jealous of a rival’s looks…even though Krum had been worth ten of him on the handsome scale but in any case, he wasn’t jealous. He would have thought he’d be angry when he’d met her and realised that she really was worthy of his best friend. Not quietly pleased. Relieved even? He supposed that if he had to lose his best friend to someone, it would be someone like her. From the way Harry talked about her, he could tell that she was pretty special to him. Harry was a lucky man. Ron breathed in, repeating his new mantra in his head: be happy for him. When she saw him her smile widened, though her eyes did dart over to where everyone else was sitting. He did his best not to follow her gaze but engage in pleasant conversation. They talked easily whilst waiting for the drinks until they came to a pregnant pause.

“So you really love him then?” His question, though coming out of silence, didn’t surprise her; she knew it had been coming, after everything Harry had told her and just Ron’s whole attitude. She didn’t back down from his not aggressive, but intense gaze and spoke evenly.

“Yes, I do.” After looking intently into her eyes gauging her sincerity, he sighed and looked away.

“Harry’s my best friend, my surrogate brother.” He glanced over to the table and saw Harry looking in their direction. He looked a little worried and Ron felt bolstered by it. Turning back to the girlfriend he went on. “I love him more than anything.” He really did, she could see it in his face; the softness of his eyes and the curve of his lips, the love in his voice as he said it, for a moment she thought could he...? “So just know that if you break his heart, there will be hell to pay.” There was no sparkle in his eyes now, just a glint of anger, she was perfectly serious when she replied.

“I will never want to hurt him but if I do, I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Looking sad but satisfied, Ron dropped the finger he was pointing at her and forced a smile onto his lips, picking up some of the drinks and changing the subject as they walked back to the table.

Harry sighed with relief as the pair re-joined the table and neither looked uncomfortable with the other. He thought for a moment that they were about to argue but then both had relaxed and walked amiably back with the drinks. Taking a sip of Butterbeer, he sat back and just enjoyed being with the people he loved.

“Well I guess I’ll see that when we move in together.” Quinn’s answer to a question he hadn’t heard startled him. He felt confused before anger kicked in when he felt Ron stiffen beside him. Just when his best friend had gotten on board she’d had to bring up something like that. They had never had a discussion about moving in together, it was way too soon; what was she thinking upsetting Ron like that? She looked around at the surprised faces and blushed, knowing she’d spoken too soon. “I mean, you know we haven’t talked about it much…” Harry bit his tongue and nudged her reassuringly as she raised her shoulders self-consciously. Ginny sipped her drink to close her open mouth; only Hermione dared look at Ron, cringing further as she saw his tight jaw and downcast eyes. Ginny suddenly started a new, loud conversation and after a few minutes Ron managed to slip away.

_If she treats you right… I will never sing this song out loud_

“Oh Ron, I know it’s hard but you have to let him go sometime.” Harry froze. He’d been standing outside to get some fresh air for a few minutes, the pub getting too stuffy, and half wondering where everyone else had gotten to, when he’d heard Hermione’s hushed voice from the alley round the corner. “I think you should tell Harry.” Stalking closer, he shamelessly listened in.

“What?” Ron’s panicked voice startled him, what was he hiding? Casting a silent disillusionment charm on himself, Harry peered round the corner and saw Hermione with her back to him, hand on her friend’s arm who looked torn between sadness and fear.

“No, not that, I mean tell him you’re standing down, that he has, well your permission I guess, don’t you guys have to give the nod or something?” Ron didn’t respond, just hung his head. “I think it would help you move on, let go.” Harry saw her hand squeeze Ron’s arm making him look up with his eyes watering; he sighed and said with a faux-bravado.

“I have! I really like Quinn and…if she makes him happy, then who am I to stand in their way?” Harry frowned, why was Ron having such a hard time accepting them? “If she treats him right, then I’ll be her friend.” Well, he couldn’t complain about effort, and come to think of it, he knew that if Ron was seeing someone, he would be equally as protective and untrusting, at least at first. Hermione seemed to have picked up on something, he couldn’t see her face but he knew by her tone that she was about to confirm her suspicion.

“You’ve changed your tune, what happened?” Ron was unaware of the edge to her voice and carried on, half-lost in his thoughts.

“Well, I met her and, well, I couldn’t find fault with her, she’s nice and funny and...” He shrugged, scratching the back of his head. Hermione leaned in a bit closer and Harry knew she was looking intently at him, studying his expression.

“Oh yeah?” The red-head nodded in earnest before she went on slyly. “You sure you haven’t, found someone?” Suddenly Ron understood and raised his hands as if to slow Hermione’s assumptions down.

“Uh, no I haven’t, erm…” But she stepped closer.

“Ron! You have haven’t you?” Harry’s stomach dropped; his mouth dry and heart-rate picking up. “That’s great!” He didn’t feel like joining in with Hermione’s little cry and hug, just looking at Ron’s cautious smile confirmed the news. Ron had…he’d found someone. Suddenly Harry felt very angry.

_If she breaks your heart I still won’t stand a chance_


	10. Be Mine

_…you don’t see me like I wish you would._

Let him go? How dare Hermione suggest that; he didn’t want to be let go! His girlfriend wasn’t a replacement for his best friend! What a completely…a completely ridiculous suggestion! He and Ron were best friends; that wouldn’t change, they’d be best friends forever! Twitching his mouth he tried to deny that he’d just sounded like a sappy schoolgirl, he meant it however silly it sounded. Ron was his…he struggled to find any other definition than ‘best friend’ but that was all he could think of. It’s all they were, it was…them. Ron had always been there for him, even if he’d wavered a few times he’d always come through in the end, of course he was in his future as well. Harry had never doubted that they’d always be together. As friends…. Why had he thought that? Shaking his head he ignored the question and went on. He’d never let anyone come between them. Not Quinn, not Hermione, not anyone! He had lost track of his friend’s conversation whilst in his head so blinked and quickly made sure his disillusionment charm was still strong. Ron was speaking distractedly.

“Erm, I’ll be in in a bit.” Harry was still unable to see Hermione’s face but he guessed she must have looked sceptical as she muttered something because of Ron’s hurried reassurance. “Yeah,I just need a few more minutes. I’ll be in in a sec. _”_ Holding his breath, he watched Hermione walk past, a smile on her face. For an irrational second he felt unbelievably angry towards her. How dare she say such things? She knew better than anyone how close they were, how much they needed each other! He resisted the urge to start shouting at her and turned his attention back to his best friend who was leaning against the wall, looking tired and worried. Harry supposed that he was processing Hermione’s words as well and wanted nothing more than to reassure him; he took the charm off himself and stepped round the corner.

_It’s a cruel thing that you’ll never know all the ways that I tried_

“Ron?” The red-head jumped up, eyes wide in fear as if Harry was a massive spider. For a few moments he was frozen in place until he shook himself and gulped as Harry came closer, enquiring cautiously. “Are you alright?”

He looked at his friend closely, feeling sad that he couldn’t read that familiar face and unsure how to proceed. He went for reassurance.

“Look, I know Quinn is…she’s my girlfriend but she’s not…she’s not you. You know that right?” That was it. She was his girlfriend not his best friend. There was hope in his friend’s eyes as he heard Harry say that.

_There’s a moment to seize every time that we meet_

“Yeah, course, we’re, best friends.” Harry was distracted from the hoarse and unsure voice by searching for a flicker of understanding in the guarded eyes. Unable to see what he was looking for, Harry squeezed Ron’s shoulder with a broad smile, gaze fixed on his those blue, blue eyes. For a moment they were locked in an intense stare, Ron breathless and Harry’s tentative cajoling dissipating into seriousness. A group of people walked past the corner of the pub, laughing loudly and singing as they made their way to the station; they passed quite close behind where Harry was standing and without moving his eyes he took a small step forward.

_But you always keep passing me by_

This was Ron. Stop staring at him like that, this is Ron! Snapping himself out of the sudden sobriety, Harry nudged Ron with his fist gently, a tentative smile on his lips.

“Hey, it’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Eye line dropping to the floor instantly, Ron muttered.

“We can’t live together forever Harry.” The dark-haired man drew his hand back, surprised and then hurt. Was this Ron wanting to move on? Was this Ron pushing him away? He had just thought…He had assumed that Ron… Could Ron want him to move in with his girlfriend? Did he want to move apart? Harry felt horrified by the thought and unable to breathe properly he choked out defeatedly.

“No, I suppose not.”

_For the first time there is no mercy in your eyes…and you’re walking away_

Ron closed his eyes as if in pain and all of Harry’s breath was knocked out of his body as his insides squirmed viciously. He felt terrible, was this what their decade long friendship was coming to?

“You’re moving on.” Ron forced himself to say it, feeling no better for giving his ‘blessing’ to Quinn, no better for all Hermione’s enthusiasm about his new relationship, if you could call it that...He just couldn’t be happy or excited about it when in his best friend’s presence, still feeling the weight of his hand on his shoulder and his body lingering so tantalisingly close. He clenched his hands into fists, squashing his urge to reach out a touch that body, to claim it. Friends, best friends, they were best friends, they couldn’t, he could never, oh Merlin!

_It’s a good thing that tears never show in the pouring rain._

Harry made him jump by snapping.

“No!” They locked eyes again, this time a different intensity manifesting itself between them. It began to drizzle slightly but neither of them noticed. “I’m not moving on, I’m just…I’m just spreading around…” Harry blushed and shrugged, looking away, fully aware of how weak that sounded. Scratching the back of his head, he gulped and vaguely felt a few thin streaks of rain trickling down his neck. He wasn’t looking at his friend, staring into the distance so he barely heard Ron’s strained whisper.

“I’ll see you later.” Looking up, Harry caught a glimpse of a droplet of rain on his friend’s cheek before he turned away, walking slowly down the street. The rain hardened and Harry forced himself not to call out for Ron to cast a Buffer Spell over his head; suddenly he couldn’t watch the figure disappearing round the bend in the street and had to turn away back to the pub, stomach in ribbons.

_And now you’re gone it’s like there’s an echo in my head_

“Ron?” Harry snapped his head up quickly, that name conjured so much warmth in him whenever he heard it- It was Ginny. She saw him and pulled him into a corner to avoid some people trying to enter the pub after Harry. He ruffled his hair, unnecessarily considering how little rain actually had got into it and had to lean in to hear Ginny, her voice a little quieter than usual. “I just wanted to see if Ron was okay, he was…looking a bit ill earlier.” Suddenly reminded of Hermione and Ron’s conversation, Harry felt angry again even though Ginny hadn’t been there, for some reason he felt like everyone was against him and Ron. He almost snarled at her.

“I’m not going to move out!”

_And I remember every word that you said_

She looked amused, eyes twinkling.

“Honestly, you two are like an old married couple!” He felt rage grow in him inexplicably as she went on good-naturedly. “It’s not healthy for you two to be living together, if you’re not careful you’ll both end up cranky pensioners in that flat!”

“We’re not ready! What’s all this rush?” He roared and walked away, striding to the bar; he needed a drink desperately. Sitting down, not caring if he’d been followed or not, he ordered the strongest drink he could think of and jumped as someone called to him.

“Heya Harry!” Turning wearily, Harry was pleasantly surprised to see Seamus’ beaming face. Here was someone to distract him with ridiculous conquest stories and crass humour. “I hear you got yourself a new girl!” His joy at seeing his old roommate instantly evaporated as he suddenly remembered everything annoying about Seamus. Smiling politely he nodded and inwardly groaned as he saw Seamus’ obvious prompt.

“She’s called Quinn and she works at St. Mungo’s. She’s…” The smile faded on his face at the memory of Ron’s sad eyes-

_…you always keep passing me by…_

Luckily Seamus wasn’t really interested in hearing about that as he was brimming with news of his own.

“Hey is Ron with you?” Harry supressed the urge to roll his eyes, what was with those two? He was preparing himself for Seamus to give him the whole ‘move on’ speech, however unlikely it seemed to the rational part of his mind.

“Yeah, he was here a few minutes ago but he’s gone now.” Clicking his fingers in mock-frustration, the man muttered a light-hearted curse before looking closely at Harry for a minute, eyes narrowed as if calculating something. Finally, after Harry began to wonder what Seamus was thinking, the bloke started speaking again, in a blasé way.

“Damn!... I was going to tell him that Gareth really enjoyed the other night, he’s really in to him.” The sandy haired man then watched his old dorm mate intently as he took a sip of his pint; Harry blinked, Ron went out with someone? That must be the girl he had let slip to Hermione about. But digesting the rest of the sentence he chuckled, part mad laughter from the stress he’d been under in the last few minutes and part from mirth at Seamus’ mistake. Gareth? What possible girl’s name could Seamus have got mixed up over? He smirked and asked incredulously.

“What?” Seamus looked a bit unnerved by Harry’s reaction, gulping, but shook his head and went on determinedly.

“Gareth, the guy he went out with the other night, Saturday I think, he said he had a great time, wants to meet up again.” Harry gaped, mouth open stupidly. He’d heard right, hadn’t he? Ron had ‘gone out’ with a…a man? He was gay? But he couldn’t…What…?

_You never were and you never will be mine._

And who the hell is this _Gareth?_


	11. If I Were Gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've changed the Tags to include 'Mild Sexual Content' because that's how I'd class the passage at the end but do let me know if you think it merits a stronger warning. Enjoy!

_If I were gay I would give you my heart_

Harry wasn’t sure where to start so he cleared his throat, trying to calm the storm building in his head and asked Seamus to confirm the incredible idea that his best friend was…

“He hasn’t…he really hasn’t said anything to you?” His old dorm mate was looking nervous and guilty, pulling at his collar. Harry shook his head numbly as Seamus ventured. “Well I don’t want to be the one to say it…” They both winced at how late that concern had come. Seamus breathed in, his light eyes completely serious. “You should talk to him.” Harry nodded and got up, leaving his drink and his old mate alone at the bar.

His mind was in chaos. Ron, Ron whom he’d known for…nine to ten years was gay? How had he not realised that? Even though he hadn’t actually met any gay people before, that suspect who’d hit on him once didn’t count, he wasn’t entirely ignorant to homosexuality. Although they hadn’t received any information about sex or relationships at Hogwarts and he’d been too young to get any muggle education about it, he’d heard through gossip about people in heterosexual and homosexual relationships with no prejudice against either. Wizards were conservative about some things but very forward thinking about others, in a way that seemed completely random to Harry, for example Mr Weasley had once taken him aside, extremely red-faced, and proclaimed it is duty as surrogate father to give him the talk. The talk had seemed to push sex after marriage but had included safe sex between males: that had been quite a day, especially as Ron had also had to suffer through it and had begged Harry not to mention it ever again. In light of all this, Ron had no reason to be scared about coming out.

And to find about it from Seamus! Wait a minute! How did Seamus know but he didn’t? Had he found out himself or had Ron told him? Why would Ron tell Seamus and not him? It didn’t make any sense. Letting himself into the flat, he found Ron in the kitchen. Right, he was going to get to the bottom of this. But taking one look at his downcast friend holding cooling tea, he decided that the questions could wait.

_But I’m not gay_

Whilst lying in bed that night, he listened to the sound of his…his gay flatmate snoring lightly from his own room. He didn’t have a problem with homosexuality; the Dursely’s hadn’t been keen on it but he made a point of it to care very little about what they thought. Although he didn’t know any gay people personally he really didn’t think there was anything wrong about it, as an idea. Though he avoided thinking about the logistics.

It suddenly crossed his mind that maybe, well, maybe Ron liked _him._ But only because he was a man, not because… They were close, impossibly close because of all they’d been through in the long years of their friendship but…Ron was like a brother to him. They were brothers, friends. And Ron thinking about him in that way, no, it was impossible. He would have been able to tell if his best friend had been lusting after him! The signs had been obvious when Ron had had the hots for Hermione. Oh God, Hermione! What would she think? Should he convince Ron to tell her? Hell, how was he going to let Ron know that he knew? It wasn’t that he was going to be too hard on Ron for not telling him outright, hurt as he was, but…it was still going to be awkward.

_Here were are again, dear old friend_

“So I saw Seamus yesterday…” The pair had been sitting in the living room in amiable silence, working on their own things when Harry couldn’t contain all his tangled emotions any longer. Looking up from the article he hadn’t quite finished at work, Ron adopted a mildly interested face and Harry paused before just not thinking about it. “He wanted to tell you that Gareth had a great time-” Ron interrupted him loudly, half-rising from his chair, arms outstretched and eyes wide in panic.

“What?” There was a moment of frozen tension before Ron’s lips moved slightly and Harry thought he heard him mutter something about killing Seamus. Moving to get up from his chair Harry saw his friend almost flinch at this movement so instead picked up his drink and took a sip. Ron hadn’t moved from his half-raised position, watching his friend warily. Harry didn’t need to clarify it verbally, his expression a mixture of hurt and confusion telling the red-head his fear had been confirmed. Ron didn’t say anything but gulped. Softly, Harry almost whispered as he crept closer along the coach, wanting to touch his friend to reassure him.

_I’d be right behind you, if you know what I mean._

“I’m not angry about…well I don’t disapprove or am disgusted or anything.” The red-head let out a small breath of relief but his expression didn’t waver from nervousness. Harry went on. “I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me.” There was another pause before Ron licked his lips and sat down again. He’d obviously prepared the speech he trundled out, blushing furiously.

“Harry, listen, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know how you felt about the whole guy-on-guy thing and I thought if it freaked you out it’d get really awkward around here and I didn’t want anything to change because, well, this means so much to me.” He gestured between himself and Harry. “You and me, it means a lot and I’d do anything to protect this.” Ron finished with a small shrug, face turned away slightly, shy and nervous. Harry sighed, letting out the nervous breath he’d been holding; he took back his earlier thought that Ron had nothing to fear about coming out, that had been excruciating as well as touching. Unable to stay angry at that worried face, his voice showed no hard feelings as he said gently.

“You could have told me. It’s okay, I’m okay with it.” Ron’s lips flickered a little, shoulders still raised uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I was just…nervous I guess.” Harry now fully understood.

“Yeah well, now that you mention it that was a tad awkward wasn’t it?” They shared small smiles.

_Another time, another time…_

They went back to their separate work, Harry blinking at the blurred words on his report on a recent raid, still unable to concentrate. There was a long period of comfortable silence before Harry tried to ask something that had been burning in his mind ever since he’d finally got his head around the news.

“How do you…? I mean…” Cursing inwardly he tried to dive into it but the question got stuck again. “How do you have…?” Ron had calmed sufficiently enough to be amused and cocky.

“Sex?” Ginger eyebrows raised as Ron’s voice came out lightly. “Harry, don’t tell me we need to have the talk.” Harry blushed even harder.

“I mean, how, how is it?” Ron replied immediately, a small smile on his full lips.

“Amazing.” Harry licked his own lips as he almost nodded for Ron to continue. “It’s not that different from being with a girl, I mean theoretically it’s the same concept of, you know… but oh Harry!” He half-whispered, eyes shining with something Harry couldn’t place. “It’s just, so much better.” Harry quivered his whole being suddenly alight. “I mean, I…I’ve only…” Ron coughed and went on determinedly, looking at the air above Harry’s head rather than actually at him. “I’ve only…you know, with a guy, once or twice.” Harry felt his eyes widen in confusion and alarm as he felt blood rush to his cock. What the hell? Why was it doing that? He wasn’t a teenager anymore, why was he getting random stiffies? What was wrong with him? To his horror, Ron was looking at him strangely. “Harry…?” Harry shook his head violently, mouth shaking as he spoke quickly.

“I’m just curious, I just wanted to, to know that. Hey, do you want to go get a pint or something? You know, celebrate?” Harry glanced at his lost-looking friend, holding his breath, hoping that would be the end of it. Thankfully Ron just licked his lips and nodded, smiling weakly. Clapping his hands, Harry quickly excused himself to the bathroom and glared at his trousers. What had it been playing at? He had to breathe in deeply for a few minutes, clenching his fists at his side and avoiding the mirror. When he came out, Ron had flooed the girls so they put their cloaks on and went to the pub together, lost in their own thoughts.

_It’s not that I don’t care…_

Ron blushed.

“It’s just been a few dates it’s nothing yet really…” Hermione nudged his shoulder playfully, a loving smile on her lips. Ginny was sitting with a bemused smile on her face, as if expecting Ron to leap up at any moment and reveal the hoax.

“You’ve seen him more than once?” Harry blurted jealously. Everyone turned to him, a range of expressions staring at him. Backtracking when he realised how he’d sounded, he stammered. “I mean, Seamus only mentioned the once…” Ron tried to look nonchalant.

“Well, I’d met him before when I’d been out with Seamus, we got a drink and talked a bit, dunno if that really counts.” The girls began talking excitedly, mostly to themselves, leaving Harry to try and calm himself down. If Ron could reign in his protective instincts then so could he. He noticed Hermione looking especially excited. She’d only just found out, he’d needed almost a full day and night to come to terms with it, how could she…? It then dawned on Harry that Hermione had probably known of this all along, intelligent as she was. Maybe that had been the reason they’d…Yes, that must be it! Neither of them had given a solid reason, just the generic ‘it didn’t work out’. Granted that was genuinely the case for himself and Ginny but his best friends were another matter. Further hurt that neither told him the real reason, though not allowing himself to be too bitter about it, Harry just sipped at his pint. Now that she’d fully recovered from the surprise, Ginny grinned widely, nudging her brother with a sharp twinkle in her eye.

“So…? Who exactly is this Gareth then?” Crimson, her brother pursed his lips into a slight smile and didn’t reply. The girls pestered him some more while Harry cringed, feeling slightly sick. In the end, all they’d got out of him was that he was a friend of Seamus’ and he’d actually managed to refuse cave into the pressure to arranging a meeting. Harry would have been impressed had he been paying attention, instead of looking at the ceiling. Hermione nudged him back into the conversation which had moved on, and glancing at Ron, Harry saw a small smile and shrug, forgiving him for his apparent disinterest. He returned the smile and tried not to feel too bad.

Going to sleep that night proved difficult for Harry, still grappling with the thought of Ron, of Ron…He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t summon up the image of Ron with another man. He folded his arms over his chest and guessed that it was normal as he hadn’t been able to picture Ron with a woman either. He supposed that his best friend was naturally asexual in his head. That fateful night at the Lovegood’s popped into his tired head, feeling those soft, wet lips on his fevered skin, strong arms pulling him closer. Tugging the covers tighter over himself he shook his head fiercely, no, don’t think about that. Mistake, it was a mistake. Ron himself had said it. Harry sighed, curling into himself and finally sleep came.

Harry groaned, arching his back as warm lips pressed against his neck, tongue trailing down to his chest. He dug his fingers into the smooth back and silky hair, pulling the warm and hard body closer to him, mouth gaping soundlessly as strong hands kneaded his arse, fingernails digging in slightly. Feather-like fingers ghosted over his arms and across his stomach sliding downwards, he jerked upwards and gasped as impossibly hot lips slid around his aching cock, wetting it and engulfing…warm…oooh! He raised his head to watch that incredible mouth working on him, that intense hair ruffled and aflame in the dim light. Blue eyes flashed up at him, mischievous and full of something else. He’d never felt so alive, so pleasured, so loved. He woke up as he came, panting, wide-eyed and feeling both euphoric and horrified. He’d just had a wet dream about… about Ron and…and he didn’t know what to think.

_Maybe the whiskey’s gone to my head._


	12. Heart On The Finish Line

_You see this darkness? Well I let it in two hours ago_

Harry came back to the flat from a drink with the other Aurors and despite being slightly drunk, instantly knew that something was wrong. He could hear clinks from the living room and wand raised, he slowly crept in. There were some low burning candles but he could still see a few empty beer bottles on the coffee table. Flicking on the electric light he saw Ron had a bottle of beer in his hand and on seeing Harry, waved it a little as he announced in a loud slur.

“So he left me again.” Harry let out a heavy breath; he had known this would happen. Sitting down and trying to confiscate the bottle from his drunken friend, he prepared himself for a long night and early morning of wallowing and random cursing. It had been a few months since he’d found out about Ron’s sexuality and his red-headed friend had begun a downward spiral. After the Gareth relationship fell apart Ron had dated a string of men, most of which Harry never met, only heard snippets about from when his friend would casually let slip. Ron also went out with Seamus a lot and through random comments from the Irishman, Harry gathered that Ron had lost any inhibitions about chatting up strangers, even getting good at it. Finding that out had made Harry queasy enough, but hearing it second-hand from Seamus was even worse; Ron wasn’t meant to be this smooth-talking one-night stand man. He was meant to find someone nice and settle down, go to the pub and have beers, talk about Quidditch, go shopping together, go out to places, have a nice life…

_…you’re gonna get hurt again_

Hope had come in the form of Jaime, a stand-up bloke with a decent salary and good sense of humour; he was warm and easy-going, much like Ron himself. As soon as they’d met a month ago, the two had got on like a house on fire; Harry, although glad the guy had seemed steady enough for a good relationship, had been insanely jealous and had spent a lot of time with Quinn to compensate for being in a cold empty flat. Everything had been going well in the boy’s love lives, but they had become awkward with each other; unable to talk about their respective relationships without annoying the other, they’d found themselves feeling cut off and a little lonely whenever they were together. Harry hardly saw Ron recently, and when he did they never had as much fun as they used to. Unfortunately, or not so much for Harry, Jaime was still in love with his ex, who kept on toying with him, inviting him to parties and hinting at getting back together. Jaime would then break things off with Ron before owling in the middle of the night because he had been left again. Ron had spent a lot of nights comforting the sobbing wreck and Harry had stopped asking where the red-head had been all night. He soon hated the man, not only was he taking away his friend, he was making him as miserable as he was. He would often tell Ron to just cut loose, to leave the emotional cripple and find himself someone unattached but for some reason Ron hadn’t agreed with him. He just couldn’t understand why Ron was putting himself through all of it when it was clear that Jaime would never be able to commit himself fully.

Harry was startled out of his musings when Ron spoke again. “I know what you’re thinking…” If there hadn’t been undertones of pain Harry would have snorted at the clumsiness of the pronunciation. He took the bottle out of Ron’s hand again and banished it with a flourish of his wand before replying steadily.

“Do you?” Uncaring that his drink had disappeared, Ron went on, eyes heavy-lidded and slightly red.

“Yep! You’re thinking, oh Ron, what an idiot you are, thinking you, you could make it work. For, for wanting it to work.”

“Well yeah, actually I’m glad it’s over.” Feeling closer than he’d been to his best friend in ages, he went on quickly, desperate not to mess it up by being misunderstood. “I mean, he wasn’t right for you.” To his relief, Ron nodded slowly and shrugged, as if trying to forget about it.

_When you said you didn’t want me… well I didn’t cry_

Harry was surprised that Ron wasn’t more upset. He had given a lot to the relationship, or at least so it seemed to Harry, obviously Ron had been less invested than Harry had thought. The ginger seemed to have gotten drunk for the sake of post-break-up drinking instead of being completely heart-broken. Then again, Harry was glad he didn’t seem to upset, that man was not worth crying over.

_I put a heart down on the finish line, but that heart wasn’t mine_

Ron hadn’t known how Harry would react. He knew that his friend hadn’t liked Jaime, even before he’d had a good reason to. Although Harry had claimed to be okay with the whole gay thing, Ron wasn’t sure. Why else would he automatically dislike everyone Ron went out with? Well, whatever Harry’s thoughts, he knew that his best friend didn’t hate him for his sexuality, that much Harry made sure he knew. Once it was all out in the open, Ron had felt himself relax on the nights out Seamus and Gareth had dragged him on. Even after he and Gareth had moved on amicably, he had felt more confident in talking to strangers, imitating Seamus’ conversation starters and enjoying some good old sexual gratification. Merlin knows he hadn’t had any physical contact like that since Hermione, too long ago. But all the time he was ‘cruising’, as one flamboyant friend of Seamus’ kept on saying, he knew that he could never settle down and find a happy and stable relationship. His heart wasn’t his to give anymore. No matter how many nice inviting lips he kissed, how many feather-like fingers caressed him or intoxicating scents he smelt, nothing could make him feel the way he’d felt in those short but infinitely sweet few moments in the Lovegood’s garden. Nothing could compare, to the warmth and comfort he drew from his best friend’s mere presence, no one would ever come close. His explorations merely confirmed this theory and so when Jaime had blurted out his troubles with his ex on the second date, he hadn’t run; finally there was a kindred spirit, someone who knew what unrequited love really meant. The only reason he was getting drunk was because Jaime’s ex had proposed. Everyone knew that even if they did make it down the aisle then it would explode soon after, but Ron knew that at least for now he was alone again in misery. Still, Harry was here now and he always made everything better.

Leaning over the side of the sofa, Ron picked up two more beer bottles and passed one to Harry; now certain Ron wasn’t drinking to drown his sorrows, Harry decided that one more couldn’t hurt. Clinking their bottles together in a silent toast, Harry couldn’t help his grin; Ron’s eyes were lit again, after so long of being dulled, they were dancing, how he liked them. __

_My eyes, well I bleached them today, the rosy tint’s gone away…_

Suddenly they were very close and Harry was reminded of his latest dream. They’d been in a dingy hotel room, completely naked and rolling around on the filthy sheets, his favourite bit had been when Ron had shimmied down his body and… No, he shook his head. He couldn’t think about that when Ron was right there! Harry felt himself leaning back into the sofa and started telling a funny joke his colleague had told him in the pub.

A few days into Ron and Jaime’s relationship, Harry had admitted to himself that he fancied his best friend. Just looking at him bending over to pick something up was enough to send blood rushing downwards; it was hell trying to control his little man whenever he saw the red-head shirtless and he had even had to take a few potions to calm his libido down. That in turn had forced him to do some juggling with spending time with Quinn, to avoid awkward questions; using his work as an excuse for tiredness was a bit shameless but he did it anyway. If he really thought about it, they didn’t have too much sex as it was, Harry was just so comfortable and happy to hear about her day and spend time with her that he hardly ever brought up getting physical. But as much as he felt this sudden attraction, he couldn’t tell anyone, let alone Ron; he’d think Harry was mocking him or something and Harry would never ever do anything to lower Ron’s confidence. Besides, it wasn’t like he was gay, he wasn’t; he loved women, women turned him on, men didn’t… apart from Ron. He supposed he was just curious about the whole male-male thing, he didn’t really want to, to do anything. And anyway, he was with Quinn; a beautiful, clever, sexy woman whom he…liked very much, and whom he would no doubt love in…in a bit.

_When you said you didn’t want me…I didn’t bleed_

There was a small silence after an amiable, if short conversation. Suddenly worrying that Ron was more hurt than he was letting on, Harry offered.

“He was a git.” He meant it too. He hadn’t even liked the sound of that weak-willed excuse for a man, a feeling which had been reinforced when he’d met the man. He didn’t recognise that his dislike had been harboured before the troubles had started, that he hated the idea of Ron dating rather than who he dated. Ron sighed gloomily.

“Yeah.”

“I still don’t understand why you gave that shit-piece time of day, I’m glad you’re rid of him!” Ron smiled sleepily, eyes closing.

_…and I’m still alive_

“Let’s talk about something else.” Harry nudged his friend, not thinking he should go to sleep before having some water to dull the pain in the morning. “So, it’s Hermione’s party next week.” Harry cringed. Why was he bringing up her second year anniversary? The worst thing to bring up was someone else’s perfect relationship! But opening his eyes, Ron grinned.

“Yeah I can’t believe it’s really been two years!” Relieved, Harry sat back, feeling warmth spread through him as they talked. “You remember when we first met him?” Harry grinned, of course he remembered. He’d already run a background check on the guy and he and Ron had already sneaked a peek at him by following Hermione on one of their dates, the two men like schoolboys again, ducking behind walls and chuckling as they hid. So they knew that he was a decent man but still grilled him on topics like Quidditch and…actually Harry couldn’t remember talking about anything else. No, Isaac was a great catch and the boys were happy for their surrogate sister.

Slowly drinking beers with his best friend, Harry smiled; he promised himself to never lose this, no matter who they dated, no matter how they went, they could always just be together like this. He remembered how Quinn had asked him to move in the night before and pushed it out of his mind. Not now.

_I put a heart down on the finish line, but that heart wasn’t mine_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Heart On The Finish Line’ by Lauren Hogg, can only be found on YouTube, just search the song title and it’ll come up. She’s a folky singer-songwriter from London and I recommend checking out her other stuff if you like it.


	13. Give Away Your Heart

_…fall down, get up_

“I’m worried about George.” Harry looked up from the desk in the living room; he hadn’t been concentrating as it had been obvious Ron had been working himself up to say something, biting his nail absent-mindedly as he sat on the edge of the sofa. Of all the things he could have been trying to say, Harry hadn’t considered that. He hadn’t really thought about George for a while, of any of the Weasley family. Caught between work and Ron he’d only really seen them for Sunday lunches and then there wasn’t really any news to report. It had been a few years since the end of the War, long enough to momentarily forget about the loss suffered. George… Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the lost twin. He knew that Ron tried to visit him as much as he could, even though he sometimes felt a bit weird hanging out when Lee was there, as if the old school friend just emphasised the missing.

Ron breathed in and stilled his fidgeting hands. “Well you know Lee’s going on his round the world trip with his fiancée? That means George’ll be alone in the shop.” Ron breathed in deeply and Harry could see flickers of pain in his friend’s eyes as he forced himself to vocalise his concern. “It’ll be the first time he’s been alone since…well, he’s, he’s never been alone Harry.” He had somehow known that it was coming, but it shocked him nonetheless how cold he felt as he was plunged back into the memories; the flashbulbs, loud murmuring, the black clothes and the sobbing, the terrible crying that followed him everywhere. Grief and sadness and pain cloaking themselves around him weighing on his shoulders; he’s gone, she’s gone, they’re gone, all the names of the dead whispering in his head. What had been worse than them had been how bad Ron had taken it. To an outsider it would have seemed like he was coping the best; helping with the funeral arrangements, protecting the family from reporters and letting people cry on his shoulder whilst running around sorting everything else out. He’d done all of this with a tight jaw and tense shoulders but soft eyes and when he held someone, he put every ounce of love into the embrace. Yes, his strength seemed endless. But Harry saw the truth. He saw shaking hands scrunching newspapers and unable to pick up coffee mugs without breaking them, he heard sharp intakes of breath and gulps before his friend could turn to face a new problem or to comfort someone anew. He felt, rather than saw, flinches flicker across that taut face, small signs of the crippling pain hidden beneath the surface. He was the one who saw the cracks, he was the one who put a hand to steady that fatigued body, who held him in the middle of the night as silent tears ran unashamedly down his cheeks. Back in the present Harry shivered slightly; he hated remembering those times. Gulping he began carefully.

“Well, we’ll have to keep an extra eye on him, maybe invite him round more.” The hesitancy in Ron’s posture portended a different intention, his voice was hoarse as he went on.

“Actually, I was thinking that maybe I could, could stay with him.” After a moment’s breath he hurried on, palm “Just for a bit, I mean, he was talking of closing up the shop anyway and setting out with some mates from Hogwarts but, until then I mean...” Harry didn’t hesitate.

“Oh yeah, of course, I understand. He’s your brother, it’s good that you want to keep him company…you should be with him.” It was for the best, but Harry still had a dreadful feeling that somehow that if Ron moved out, he wouldn’t come back. He was losing his best friend and he had no idea how to get him back.

_Give away your heart_

“So you’ll come with me?” Harry was jerked out of his thoughts. He looked up to see his girlfriend eyeing him expectantly. They were sitting in the kitchen of her flat, half-empty mugs of coffee in front of them and suddenly, for Harry anyway, sheets of paper with pictures of houses on. Quinn was looking a little rough, faint bags under her eyes and hair a little messy she was still beautiful but just looked under pressure. Had she been having a tough time at work? Harry was vaguely ashamed that he didn’t know. Smiling thinly, she explained patiently. “The house viewing…? You just said Ron was moving in with his brother…meaning that you’re going to move in with me…right?” The pause was short but obvious and whilst waiting for her long–term boyfriend to come up with answer, Quinn thought about the third person in their relationship.

She knew the close bond between the two, she really did understand and sympathise, but she and Harry had been dating for almost a year, was it so unreasonable to want to move forward in the relationship? The only reason Harry had for refusing before had been Ron, now Ron was moving on, what else would be stopping him? Not that she hadn’t had her doubts…She was almost sure that Ron had a crush on Harry, though had no real evidence, just her intuition and a few hints here and there. Though she’d only met him a few times, Ron often came up in conversation and through Harry’s often unconscious comments she’d gathered that the red-head featured heavily in her boyfriend’s mind and that it seemed to work the other way as well. She didn’t even know if Harry himself realised the possibility of the conclusion she’d come to. She had respected his friend’s seeming decision by not bringing it up with Harry; but she couldn’t let that get in the way of her relationship, enough was enough. For the first time in her life she’d found someone she felt she could spend forever with, she just didn’t want it to take forever to get there.

“I guess we could-” Harry’s cautious and reluctant start was interrupted by Quinn’s little woop and kiss on the lips. She pulled away happily, flicking through papers and reeling off facts she’d memorised as Harry floundered in a kind of helplessness. He was drained, he had no fight left.

_We’ll fall, we’ll bleed_

It must have been a dream. Surely he can’t have already signed for a house. It was a nightmare he’d had at work and now coming home to his and Ron’s flat would take away the bad taste in his mouth. Harry chanted those thoughts in his head as he let himself in but in vain. He knew instantly that something was wrong; there was only a small lamp light on in the living room, he couldn’t smell food and there was no music. There was always music. Ron was sitting next to the lamplight which lit his face in an almost ghoulish way. He spoke in a harsh whisper.

“So she came over earlier.” Harry cursed inwardly. “Took some your stuff.” He knew he should have made her swear to wait, at least until Ron had gone to the shop. He knew he shouldn’t have signed, shouldn’t have even agreed to go to a viewing in his lunch break. How had she worked so fast anyway? How had he let himself been dragged along? What had happened? It was like a rug had been swiped from under his feet and he was twisting to try and right himself again. Turning his attention back to his best friend he gulped. The red-head looked murderous and snorted at Harry’s silence, standing up abruptly; stomach in free fall Harry half-whispered.

“Ron-” Ron turned away, set face harsh against the sharp light and forming a lump in Harry’s throat. Everything was falling apart.

_Pointless ends and pointless means_

Harry called after Ron’s retreating form weakly. “You knew this would happen, you’re going to move in with George!” Ron turned back sharply, bristling with wound up tension but with an undercurrent of hurt.

“I never said that! I said that I’d go and stay with him for a while to support him. I…I don’t want to move out and I don’t want you to move out either!” He swallowed hurriedly as the pinpricks behind his eyes sharpened and his throat was filled with a thick, cloying substance he didn’t want to identify. That afternoon had been the worst few hours of his life, he’d been packing his rucksack to spend a week or two at George’s, feeling guilty for overlooking his family in recent weeks in favour for worrying over his feelings for Harry. Life had been moving on and he thought he’d seen his brother seem a bit brighter the past year or so but Ron of all people knew how to hide in plain sight. It might do him and Harry good as well, a bit of time apart to regroup and think clearly and so he was just finishing up when there’d been a knock on the door. Ron had tried not to think about the thrown-away comment from the pub all that time ago but from the ensuing conversation, he could tell that at least one person had kept it in the forefront of their mind. Oh Merlin had that been awkward, hiding in the kitchen as she’d collected some random things, more of a statement than a practical move; all the while he’d had to listen the shuffling and rustling of possessions going into her bag, the hurt had grown in his chest, until he was near choking. She’d eventually left to let him wait for her boyfriend and an explanation.

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead with his palm, voice sharpening as anger poured out of him.

 “I’m just trying to keep everyone happy and you’re making it so…so difficult!” He almost laughed at how child-like Ron sounded when he snapped back, suddenly confronted with the image of an eleven year-old ginger boy arguing with a bushy-haired girl.

“Me? It’s her! She should be the one doing everything in her power to make you happy-” Feeling equally as infantile Harry sneered.

“What like you are?” Ron, quite breathless at this point, jabbed his index fingers into his chest insistently, eyes wild as he cried.

“Yes like me!” Unable to let go of his scepticism Harry folded his arms.

“Oh yeah? Well it seems to me like you’ve been immature and selfish throughout mine and Quinn’s relationship, even when you were acting ok it was weird! Are you jealous? Is that it?”

_Disappointment is everywhere, in your eyes_

“Jealous of what? Of your shiny new girlfriend or maybe even-” Ron choked but forced himself on. “Maybe even ‘wife’? Of course I am!” His breathing had steadied but was still ragged. “If you want the whole ‘married with two kids’ thing then go ahead, be my guest! I’m not stopping you on your fabulous new life.” The bitter sarcasm hit Harry the hardest; he hated it more when Ron was cold and mean rather than passionately angry; during many of their arguments over the years Harry would notice how Ron’s anger would crackle and spark from his whole body, especially the eyes, igniting and energising the whole room. But the brittle retorts cut Harry down and genuinely hurt he snapped back.

“You’re impossible!” Ron snarled, the anger back with vengeance.

“No, you are! You have no idea what you want! At least I’m trying to come to terms with-” He stopped abruptly, wide-eyed as if panicked.

… _in this moment you’ll see_

Harry’s confusion just made him angrier and he snapped.

“With what?” The red-head seemed to be frozen; the sudden drop in energy drained Harry too and he took a careful step forward, arm half-outstretched and voice gentle. “With what Ron?” Ron screamed in his head, _with being without you,_ but forced his heart down harshly and cried out shrilly.

“This! With this! With you moving on Harry, you seem to want to have your cake and eat it too, well you can’t! You have to choose!” The raven-head took a whole step back, overcome by the pain in that voice but still groping in the dark. What cake? What choice? What the hell was he talking about?

“Choose? Choose what?” The red-head let out an animalistic cry of frustration and pain, turning away, hands flying up to claw at his face as if to blind himself. Paralysed by his furious anger and agonising confusion Harry could only watch as the wounded animal spun back around, advancing insistently but unthreatening, almost pleading.

“How can you not see? Why can’t you see?”

“What?”

“Me!” Harry felt something break inside him. He’d done nothing but see his best friend for the best part of ten years. They’d been through everything together, danger, hurt, loss; Ron was his best-friend, his life-line, his…the closest person to him in the world. He felt like he’d shared every part of himself with that brilliant young man but Ron hadn’t shared everything of himself with Harry. There was something still unsaid between them, something that was pulling them apart and he didn’t even know what it was. He was tired, frustrated and depressed with the confusion and painful uncertainty that had been haunting their relationship for months on end. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Enough! I’m sick of it! Everything, I’m sick of everything and I’m sick of you!” He yelled, voice hoarse and unable to control himself he banged out of the apartment and apparated away.

_Disappointment is everywhere_


	14. Breathless

_I can understand that you don't want to cross the line_

Sighing, Harry looked at his new house and worried his lip with his teeth. It was quite a nice little house, in a similar area to where Quinn had lived before, a few streets away from a nice little park with a nice little lake. He felt terrible already. Not from thinking about how Quinn described the area, the house and everything else, though he didn’t appreciate her descriptions much; he was feeling queasy about leaving Ron like that. He quickly slipped in to the house, wrote a note for Quinn saying he wouldn’t be back for a while and then jumped as someone called his name.

_I get so breathless when you call my name…_

Turning he saw Quinn and his heart fell. In that second he’d really wanted it to be Ron, had even pictured him standing awkwardly, a hand half-outstretched, the other scratching the back of his head as he looked red-faced but determined to get through to Harry, to apologise and be eager to laugh again, repairing what had broken between them. But no, it was his girlfriend, his new house partner and what had Ron said? Potential wife? She was speaking now but it was like his hearing was muted, he couldn’t understand what she was saying; Ron’s voice still echoing in his head. Suddenly she turned away and went into the kitchen, leaving Harry to pace in the living room.

_And you know I can't promise you things will turn out fine_

Breathing slightly calmer now, Harry tried to think but all he could hear in his head was Ron shouting about Harry marrying and having children, shouting in pain at Harry moving on without him. Maybe it wasn’t just jealousy, it wasn’t fourth year now, they had both grown up since then; maybe Ron was lonely and scared of being alone. He was going to be on his own when Harry moved…now that he’d moved out. He had mentioned having a family, maybe he felt like he would never be able to have one because he feared he’d never find someone, or because of his sexuality. For Ron having a family would certainly be more complicated, but not impossible; wizards married same-sex couples the same as opposite sex couples so the only tricky bit would be having children. Harry hadn’t heard of many same-sex couples but Hermione had told him a little about the laws and how the process worked when he’d asked her, and it didn’t seem nigh-impossible, just rare.

_But I have to be honest, I want you to be mine_

Ron, Ron, Ron, the person he felt closest to in all the world and yet such a challenge to comprehend sometimes. He couldn’t let this situation break up their friendship, nothing was worth that. Harry halted in his pacing. He’d suddenly remembered something else from the fight. Ron had said he had to choose. Choose what? Between Ron and Quinn? But why? Quinn was his girlfriend and Ron was his friend, what choice was that? Why did everyone keep saying that to him? Only Quinn wanted to move into a little cute house and settle down and spend forever together… No. No, it wasn’t possible. Ron cried at him: _How can you not see?_ He couldn’t… Did Ron…Did he love him?

_My heart's on fire, why don't you realize?_

All those memories danced around in his head: the blush when he interrupted Ron singing ballads, how sometimes he’d avoid Harry’s gaze, the pain in his eyes when they’d parted outside the pub, Ron muttering that Harry was already moving on; the bitterness he’d shown at the beginning of his and Quinn’s relationship, the ferocity in his movements just a few minutes earlier as he’d struggled with himself, struggled with his emotions, such strong feelings they shook him violently. They’d been right there all along, the signs; Harry just hadn’t seen them, or wanted to see them. It was so obvious and yet so surprising that he was stunned.

_I've often wondered, do you feel the same?_

He knew that he was attracted to Ron. No he didn’t, what was he thinking? He just had unbearably hot dreams about him and simply admired the red-head’s good looks. Or maybe not…But anyway, he also knew that he cared deeply about his hapless, bashful amazing friend, he felt protective and loving towards him and never wanted to ever be without him. Never be without him, never be without him; always be with him-

“What’s wrong?” Looking at her was like waking in a dream, a memory of how things used to be before he could see properly. Her face was the same but now completely different: those big, concerned eyes a little less brighter, the soft skin a little less golden, her hair, lips, her whole body seemed to fade into the background next to the images sparkling in his head.

“Nothing.” Seeing her unsatisfied expression he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “It’s Ron.” He didn’t notice her heavy sigh as she squared her shoulders as if preparing for battle.

_'Cause I tried to do this right in your own time_

“Oh he’s not still weird about us is he?” He almost laughed. Where to start? He blinked, not seeing her breathe in heavily before forcing out a little laugh and grin. “Did I ever tell you about the time he threatened me?”

“He what?” Seeing his shock and confusion she smiled broadly.

“Well, it was in a friendly way. It was after that dinner he cooked for us, we all went to the new pub in Hogsmead? He took me aside and said that I seemed alright and that you really liked me so I better not break your heart!”

_Tell me, do you know? Tell me, do you know?_

Harry gasped. Ron loved him, or just felt something more than friendship for him. But he’d thought that Harry couldn’t love him back so had tried to put aside his feelings and do everything in his power to make sure his friend was happy, even though it made himself feel lonely and unwanted. That’s what he’d been doing for Harry: hiding his love. Harry suddenly wanted to cry, he could feel tears pricking the backs of his eyes and a lump growing in his throat. He wasn’t sure exactly what his feelings were towards his best friend, but he knew enough to see that he loved Ron more than he’d ever love this beautiful, amazing woman in front of him. With much less reluctance and guilt than he expected, he turned to Quinn and said.

“I think we should break up.” 


	15. Someone Like You

The front door slammed and Harry flinched despite himself. He’d never had to break up with someone before and even though he’d had no doubt in his mind about it, it was still awkward and painful. He’d really liked Quinn and judging from her reaction it seemed like she’d begun to love him. He kicked himself for not stopping this from going that far, but up until about half an hour ago he hadn’t doubted their future. Well, not consciously anyway. As cold as it seemed, he knew that he had to push Quinn out of his head at that moment; he had to talk to Ron. Although he didn’t have a clue exactly what Ron’s or even his own feelings were, he knew that they needed to talk and find out where they stood with each other. They owed all their years of friendship that at least. Even as he turned the key in the lock and stepped away from the door reading to apparate, his heart pounded furiously. This conversation would change everything and it may be for the worse. God he was scared by the thought of being without Ron…No wonder Ron hadn’t said anything outright, kept his feelings hidden. Well it’s high time Potter, come on. Breathing in deeply as he disapparated back to his old flat.

Frowning as he heard music, he let himself in quietly before stopping still. He knew the song, it was by Adele. Her powerful voice blasting out from the front room, pathos echoing off the walls and making him shiver.

_Never mind I’ll find someone like you._

He liked this song, the power of the emotion coursing through her masterful voice; he had heard it on Hermione’s radio a few times and liked it, secretly because it wasn’t a ‘guy song’. Why was Ron listening to it now, less than an hour after their massive fight? Harry’s stomach boiled as he thought how his friend had probably just shrugged and moved on from it, how could Ron have just brushed something like this off when he was so…? Had Harry been wrong about the whole love thing? He didn’t even know. Shaking his head, he prepared himself to talk calmly but determinedly.

He strode into the front room to see Ron sobbing. Stunned, Harry was rooted to the spot as he stared, trying to understand what he was seeing. His best friend was sitting crumpled on the sofa, head in his hands and whole body shaking with anguish. Harry felt himself go completely blank as the track faded and he suddenly heard the desperate cries and broken sobs. His gut clenched and twisted horribly at the sound; he couldn’t take his eyes off those broad shoulders being wracked, those fingers whitening as they gripped that dull looking hair and the torso rock forwards slightly. It looked like he was falling apart, his whole body trembling. Harry didn’t even hear the song begin again.

He’d only been gone for an hour at the most. What could have happened in that much time? If there’d been bad news from the family then Ron would have gone to the Burrow or George’s, he’d have come to find Harry…Well, maybe not; the thought chilled the voyeur. But no, nothing could have happened; everyone else was fine this was… There was no other explanation; Ron was distraught about their fight, about Harry leaving.

_…you’re married now…_ The lyrics brought back their fight; words Ron had roared like a wounded animal, challenging him to leave and start a family with someone else, some stranger.

He wanted to leap up and hug his friend fiercely. For a long time Harry had thought that Ron wore his heart on his sleeve, his joyful grins, his snappy retorts, explosive temper and stormy moods, it seemed like whatever he was feeling was written all over his face; but then over time he’d seen that most of Ron’s emotional outbursts were due to a hidden reason and that sometimes he was hiding his true feelings quite effectively. Still, he’d seen Ron cry a few times: Dumbeldore’s funeral, looking after Hermione after Malfoy Manor and Fred’s funeral. But all of those occasions had been quivering lips and silent tears. He’d seen Ron distraught before, Ginny in the Chamber, all of the horrific time whilst Hermione was being tortured, the immediate aftermath of Fred’s death; but he had never ever, in nine years of friendship, seen this.

Heart-broken.

_Old friend why are you so shy?_

He couldn’t stand it. He had to run over and take him in his arms, hugging and squeezing the pain away, kissing the top of his head and cupping his face, stroking his jawbone and pressing eager lips to- Harry gulped. What had he just imagined? It wasn’t just comforting between friends it’d been…This was different to some random wet dreams. This was…No, no it couldn’t…It wasn’t that Ron wasn’t handsome or charming, or funny or so full of life and joy that it made Harry, so happy, so…Ron made him happy. He…he…Harry’s jaw fell open. Was he…was he in love with his best friend?

_Yesterday was the time of our lives_

But it was impossible! They weren’t…they couldn’t be ‘lovers’! Even, even thinking it was weird. They were best friends, blokey, having a pint together, arguing about Quidditch blokes, guys, friends. They’d been through hell and high water by each other’s sides; they’d weathered every storm thrown their way with Ron cracking jokes and Harry laughing and… If Hagrid had introduced him to the Wizarding World, Ron had welcomed him fully into it. He’d been there from the beginning and apart from just two occasions, Ron had never left him even when he’d been horrible and difficult and, he sighed thinking about their argument, when he’d been downright impossible. He was meant to settle down with a nice woman and Ron have a steady boyfriend for once and they’d always be together as friends…They’d always be together. He didn’t want anyone else if he couldn’t have Ron.

_Nothing compares, no worries or cares_

Suddenly Harry realised that when he’d been complaining that Ron hadn’t been sharing all of himself whilst Harry had, he’d been wrong. He’d never shown Ron what he was like as a lover; they’d never seen each other naked or wanting, they’d never properly talked about how they felt when they made love, when they were in love. There was so much to himself that Ron hadn’t been shown and now it seemed that maybe Ron had been trying all this time to show Harry that part of himself.

_I had hoped you’d see my face and that you’d be reminded that for me, it isn’t over_

Now, knowing what he did, Harry knew he couldn’t settle for anyone else, he wouldn’t. He wanted to see everything Ron had been trying to show him. That fateful night in the Lovegood’s garden came back in a whirl of tastes and sensations. He shivered, a warmth growing in his chest; he wanted to know more of what Ron tasted like, how he looked when he drew back from a small kiss, a deep kiss, a passionate embrace and sweet peck, how his lips moved in each. He wanted to see every inch of that familiar body and claim it, he wanted to know how Ron reacted to his touch, what he liked and what he loved. He wanted to see the beam on his love’s face as he spoiled him, kissed him, hugged him and was just there for him, God, he wanted to see their children. He hadn’t even thought about kids with Quinn, but now he was imagining little scruffy red-headed children with too big glasses laughing and playing in a field near the Burrow whilst he held Ron’s hand and just smiled.

_…guess she gave you things I didn’t give to you…_

The words stabbed Harry’s heart, vaguely he noticed a wetness on his cheeks as he put a hand to his mouth to cover a sob of his own, urging himself to go over and whisper reassurances. There was nothing in Quinn that he couldn’t find in Ron, well, not that he’d even thought about it till then, but he knew it to be true. Whatever he asked for, Ron could give willingly and he knew that it was the same about him. In his eyes, Ron had never been second best, he’d always been first, always always always.

He didn’t really see the familiar face pop into the fireplace but disillusioned himself instinctively as the figure stepped out into the room. Hermione took in the mess on the sofa and sighed, blinking furiously as she sat beside him and hugged him.

“Oh Ron!” Managing to choke, the broken-hearted stuttered over the crescendoing music.

“I…I knew it was c-coming. I did!”

_I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t fight it._

“But…but, it hurts!” The pair were rocking slightly, whether from Hermione trying to be comforting or the strength of Ron’s sobbing it wasn’t clear. “I can’t, I can’t do it. I thought I could but I can’t! I can’t watch him with her, I can’t stop loving him.” She tried to shush him but it was like he was tumbling down a mountain, gaining momentum until his voice cracked into nothingness. “He’s gonna marry and have kids and this fantastic life and I’m…I’m gonna still be here on my own-” Harry’s stomach dropped and his body felt very heavy and weary; he was growing colder and colder as he stared at the pair, crying freely and shuddering. The terrible pain etched across that warm and loving face dug sharply into his heart. It was him, it was all because of him. He’d caused all of this. Oh God what had he done?

_…sometimes it hurts instead_


	16. Just Decide

_Tie the weights around my feet and stumble in_

Sometime later Hermione reached over and turned the song off. It was late and she’d never felt so tired, just from the emotional exertion. Rubbing her cheeks from dried tear tracks she sniffed and looked down on her friend. Even asleep he didn’t look peaceful; he looked like he was being torn in half. Hermione sighed, that’s exactly what was happening. The duties of being Harry’s friend contradicted his deepest desires. It was killing him and the worst thing was there was nothing she could do about it, nothing anyone could do about. A noise from by the wall startled her and she almost cried aloud as Harry came into view. She didn’t know how or when he’d got there; all she knew was that she couldn’t let Ron see him, not in his state.

_The only sure way to lose is being afraid to choose_

It was only shock that allowed Harry to be dragged out of the house in near silence. Once the dying sunlight hit his eyes he started protesting.

“No Hermione you don’t understand! I know now! I didn’t before but now I do!” She looked so drained but managed to muster up some anger and irritation to try deflect him.

“Know what?” He had felt guilty when confronted with the mess he’d created but once away from it, he felt an overwhelming urge to fulfil his imagining, to embrace his love and never let him go. Harry looked at the obstacle sternly.

“Don’t do that Hermione we both know what I’m talking about.” Looking worriedly back at the flat, she dragged him across the road and round the corner of the next street, the flat now out of view.

“You know do you? You know about Ron’s feelings for you?” He nodded violently, frustratedly trying to look round the corner but she gripped his shoulder hard and he growled, looking at her. “How long?”

“Just recently, last hour, look I just need to-”

“No, I mean how long has he loved you?”

_I’ve been waiting here so long_

Ron’s eyes flickered open. Even with the blanket draped over him he felt cold, but so numb it didn’t really bother him. He wondered if anything would bother him again; he felt like he could watch Harry and Quinn holding hands, laughing, hell, he could stand beside Harry and watch him marry her. He would feel nothing, just emptiness; all his hope, pain and love had twisted and died in the gap between them. There was nothing left and he was dead. Calmly, he closed his eyes.

_It takes time to learn_

Harry just looked at her, his eyebrows dropping as his face crumpled slightly. Now there was silence between them she could look at him properly; he didn’t look much better than Ron. Dark shadows haunted his pained eyes, lines across his forehead deepening and his skin almost grey. He whispered hoarsely.

“How long?” He couldn’t look at her and after a short pause, she sighed and she said softly.

“He didn’t tell me exactly when but Harry, he’s loved you since school.” Harry was silent, turning his head away from her and the flat. He was kicking himself for all the times he’d let it slip by. How could he have been so blind? Ron had even asked him, why can’t you see me?

_But I’ve got no more time to burn_

“No Hermione!” For a moment his expression mirrored Ron’s and his voice had the same strains; in that moment she knew that he now knew fully the pain experienced by his best friend. “I need him!” But just because he knew didn’t mean that Ron could be healed or be safe from more hurt, and she still felt furious.

“No! I won’t let you hurt him more than you already have!” He tried to move forward again but she pushed him back roughly. “Harry Potter!” He sniffed loudly and shrugged his shoulders sharply as if to restrain his arms before lifting his eyes to look at her. She softened slightly but only a little as she whispered. “I have to be sure.”

_Get over, get over, before they drag you under_

The front door had been left slightly ajar so she just walked in gingerly, ready to turn and flee if she saw him. Nothing but the sounds of quiet breathing came from the flat so she shut the door quietly and walked into the living room. Harry had told her about the fight but he hadn’t admitted to loving his best friend. Judging by the tear stains and scrunched up face, Harry hadn’t come back yet to tell his friend the good news. She crept closer to the sleeping form, unable to fully sympathise in her current state but still feeling sorry for the clear anguish across the good man’s face. After a few moments Ron stirred and opened his eyes, her presence the only thing able to shock him in his numbness. She shrugged at his flinch and started to sob again.

“He dumped me.” Slowly, Ron sat up and shifted so Quinn could sit down next to him. She did, tears bubbling up from her eyes as she locked and unlocked her fingers. Ron should have been pleased but instead felt bitter and world-weary; would no one be happy? His head felt too heavy to try and reason why any of it was happening. Sometime later she spoke again. “I know how you feel about him,” She snorted lightly, speaking in a small voice, avoiding his eyes. “…should have realised sooner.” He didn’t move, keeping his eyes trained on her profile, his iced core melting a little. “I don’t know how he feels about you Ron, but I know that he’d never try to hurt you, never in a million years. He’d kill himself first.” The moments slipped away and still he didn’t move; she stole a glance at him but couldn’t hold his lifeless gaze, staring back at her hands now tangled in the blanket that had been wrapped around him. Everything was just…shit. She’d thought that it would be okay, that the troubles between her and Harry would fade into the background and that they could be happy. Through her insistent poking and proding they’d finally moved in together, well, almost; but then… She thought bitterly how this was repayment for acknowledging this man’s unrequited love without ever considering exactly how it would feel; she’d known how he’d felt about Harry without ever thinking about how he felt about _her_ and Harry. Now she knew what it was like she could only cry. Silently, he reached over and pulled her into a soft embrace, she sank into him and neither spoke anymore, just trying to regain some warmth.

_My eyes see far beyond the tide_

Harry looked his friend straight in the eye.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. God knows Hermione it’s taken me so long to see it.” Gulping he went on. “I’ve never wanted to hurt him, never. If I’d known, trust me I would have done everything I could to protect him, to…” He had wanted Ron to be the first to know, but seeing as Hermione had learned of Ron’s feelings before he had, perhaps it was fitting. “I love him Hermione. I didn’t know fully until I…” He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing before he snapped them open with new steel in them. “Until I saw him like that.” Eyes shining, she hugged him tightly and then wordlessly followed him back to the flat.

Shaking his hands out as he breathed in deeply, Harry stepped into the room and saw Quinn and Ron holding hands on the sofa. Both looked up and showed no surprise, just a dull sadness. Harry felt sick, two of the most lively, hilarious and warm people he knew staring almost blankly at him. It seemed a ridiculous set-up from some higher power, some game show host with horrible hair was sure to pop up and ask the million dollar question. But Harry suddenly felt unworthy, he couldn’t participate. There was no choice between them but he didn’t deserve them, he didn’t deserve happiness after the hurt he’d caused.

_Just decide_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the shortness of this one but needed to get some things out of the way, I pinky swear that the next one has what you're waiting for, promise!  
> :D


	17. Sing

_Sing it out_

With a loud sob, Quinn sprang up and pushed past Harry and the men heard her run into Hermione in the hall. There were a few strained words before both left the house, the door closing forcefully and leaving the two best friends with each other. Neither moved for a moment. Ron was staring at Harry’s feet; Harry looking at the space above Ron’s head. He knew that he had to get this right, this wasn’t some petty argument that could be resolved with an exchange of apologises and thumping each other on the back. He’d seriously hurt his friend, and knowing Ron, he’d had a hell of a time convincing him that he genuinely returned his feelings. Harry coughed to clear his throat and took a step forward.

_I refuse to answer, talk about the past sir_

“Don’t.” Harry froze. His heart was hammering relentlessly fast, leaving him half-breathless with its efforts as he tried to keep from rushing up and tackling Ron to the floor, shower him with kisses and caresses and pleads for forgiveness. Ron’s voice was hoarse. “W-whatever…whatever you’re going to say…don’t.” Harry’s breathing hitched but he blinked determinedly before taking another small step forward and whispering.

“Ron.”

_Sing it from the heart_

“Just don’t!” Suddenly they were both standing up dead straight, chests heaving and eyes wide as they stared at each other. Harry was still beyond touching distance but looked deep into those quivering eyes, surrounded by tired lines and welling with pain. Where to begin? How could he make Ron believe him? Biting his bottom lip sharply, as if to wake himself up he began shakily.

“I just didn’t see, I swear I didn’t realise.”

_Sing it for the blind_

Ron flinched as Harry admitted to knowing his secret. It had been obvious but at the same time…Stomach twisting he thought he’d heard pity and struggled to retain the detachment he’d felt when comforting that poor girl. Squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head away he murmured quietly.

“You didn’t see because you didn’t want to.” He tried to keep disinterested but bitterness slipped in. “Why would you?” Harry scrunched his eyes up, wringing his hands, voice rising.

“No! That’s not true! Look at me!” He stepped forward again, emboldened a little by his indignation at Ron’s self-depreciation. “I didn’t see because…because…” He hadn’t really thought it through but snapped out of his sudden blank mind, shouting forcefully to himself that he had no time to waste. “I don’t know why! Does it matter?” There wasn’t a reply. Ron’s head was still angled downwards and slightly away but Harry could make out the features flickering. It wasn’t over yet and so he dared step forward again, arm outstretched a little, merely a foot away as he went on softly.

_Sing about everyone that you left behind_

“We’ve been through everything Ron, I can’t remember any important event in my life without you. Please forgive me!” Nothing. Not a squeak or even a look of acknowledgment. Harry went on, eyes burning. “Please don’t throw it all away because I’ve been, because of…because-” His throat clogging with emotion, Harry blinked fiercely trying to will the tears away. Even as a young child Harry had never sobbed or cried loudly; he’d always been subdued, downtrodden and unwilling to attract attention to his misery. But he couldn’t let the love of his life walk out that door because at his worst, Ron was infuriatingly stubborn and with emotions this powerful, Harry feared that they’d never be able to reconcile. He was suddenly drowning and knew he was going to die, of sorrow, guilt, love. Neither of them had ever required more than one apology for them to be alright with each other, they’d often already forgiven each other. They’d never, they’d always…Ron had never been silent, he’d always talked or, or sang. It was Harry who was the quiet one, yes he’d make jokes and laugh and have fun too but his friend had always sparked him off, given him the confidence, the warmth to do so. They’d been happy…they’d always understood and… been together. But now Ron hadn’t forgiven him, silent and cold and would maybe never…he might not…they…they…

_Sing it for the world_

Hearing Harry trail off into muted chokes of emotion, Ron snapped his head around and lunged forward, hugging him fiercely. He buried his head into the top of Harry’s shoulder, hiding his own pain and absorbing the shaking like he’d done many times during the nights in their dormitory when those horrible nightmares had haunted his friend. That smell, Harry’s smell filled his nostrils and he felt a sob of his own coming on. They were both trembling and slowly, Ron rubbed his palm up and down Harry’s back until he felt the muscles relax slightly, though the trembling didn’t subside from either of them. Ron knew he didn’t have long before he’d break down again; the numbness he’d felt earlier turning to cramping as Harry’s emotions acted like blood rushing into his unused limbs, his abandoned heart. Ron was feeling the pumping organ ripping itself open just a bit further, trying to offer some more heat, some more strength to the fluttering heart next to him. He chanted in his head softly: _just let us keep this, just let us be like this. If this is all I can have, please don’t let me lose it._ But then Harry began choking out more and he felt all the air be sucked from his lungs.

“I…I love you. I love you with everything I have...I can’t, I can’t say anything m-more. I do, I swear.” Ron pulled away, throat raw and his whole face enflamed.

_I am not the singer that you wanted_

He was lying to make Ron feel better. It couldn’t be real, Ron had wanted it for too long, he’d finally gone mad. _Don’t let yourself fall again Ron, don’t, don’t climb, don’t…_

“Ron.” Hearing his name said like that, Ron looked up into those shimmering green eyes, the eyes he’d loved for longer than he could remember, the sparkling gems that filled him with light. Could it be…?

Harry felt lighter than air. As soon as those eyes looked at his, he knew. He hadn’t forgotten everything that had come before, all the reasons he’d avoided thinking about it properly, all the reasons that it might not work out. All of that paled into grey as he stared deep into those familiar eyes and finally saw what he’d been looking for all this time. He leaned in, pressing his lips firmly against Ron’s and felt the world explode in white light and consuming fire.

He was in a furnace that soothed every ache and pain and doubt away, his lips were searing hot and spreading heat all round his body. They were as he remembered, those lips, firm but pliable, quivering slightly at first but moving strongly as they deepened the kiss. His whole body was tingling, nerve endings were fizzing as their arms suddenly grabbed each other and squeezed their torsos together, their embrace crushing and desperate. Ron felt his eyes leaking through closed lids but couldn’t care, shivers arrowing up and down his spine, muscles strengthened by the sudden joy flooding his entire self. This was really happening, it wasn’t a flashback or a dream he was really…they were really…! Grinning into Harry’s lips, Ron ran one hand up into that silken hair, enjoying the feel of it in his fingers and the slight moan the love of his life let escape. For the first time in a long time, Ron Weasley was alive.

_Sing it for the world_

Eventually pulling back, Ron grinned as he saw Harry looking red and slightly dazed as if emerging from drunkness; though he guessed that he must look similarly bludgered. He was just lost in the sensations, lost in the very idea that everything he’d wanted was actually possible, nay, not possible but happening, right this glorious second. Blinking, Harry shared the grin and they shamelessly began to laugh, pure joy crackling in the air between them. Ron leaned in but turned his head at the last second to hover next to Harry’s ear as he whispered.

“I love you too Harry, more than anything.” That voice was warm again and just like Harry imagined his love’s voice to be as it echoed through his head, cursing and being sarcastic and shouting with glee and laughing with abandon and singing soft ballads in the quiet evening. Ron had got his voice back and realising this, Harry just smiled. For a moment he just looked into that beautiful face before deciding that he’d had enough of looking and not touching; anyway, it was about time he started cataloguing his best friend’s growls and moans.

“Come ‘ere.”

_Sing it out_


	18. The Wind Beneath My Wings

It was Hermione’s fault for introducing Ron to John Travolta but it was George’s fault for introducing Ron to karaoke. It had started when George had taken him and Harry out on a ‘guy’s night’ to a karaoke bar -this had been after his holiday and Ron had stayed with him for a week, catching up and remembering the good times- they’d gotten drunker and drunker watching varying degrees of talent, then Ron had stumbled up and performed ‘My Heart Will Go On’ to great comic effect. From then on he’d been hooked and wouldn’t shut up about going almost every week. Not that Harry hated it or anything; he loved any excuse to watch Ron singing, though now he never needed an excuse or even occasion. Ron was bursting into song a lot more often nowadays; bopping in the kitchen, humming as he got dressed, singing intensely emotional songs in the shower, man Harry loved the acoustics in there!, and swinging Harry around the room randomly, belting a big band number or sometimes power ballads, whatever took his fancy. A new favourite move of his was to wait until Harry was brushing his teeth and then sashay into the bathroom and waltz Harry around, taking no heed of the muffled protests and dribbling toothpaste, when he’d finally let Harry go Harry would find the sink and spit before Ron would take it on himself to clean the runaway toothpaste off his startled love’s face, without using his hands of course. Harry always grumbled afterwards though he’d never yet locked the bathroom door. But Harry’s all time favourite was Ron singing lullabies as they fell to sleep. He’d fiercely deny it if anyone asked him, sure that Ron would too, but falling asleep in Ron’s arms to a gentle lullaby was just the most perfect thing he could think of.

So it was that on one Saturday night that Harry found himself sitting with Ginny, Hermione and Isaac applauding as a fairly old woman stumbled down from the stage having just slurred her way through ‘Hey Big Spender’. The other three began talking about something whilst Harry twisted in his seat, trying to spot Ron at the bar. It was usually very crowded in their favourite haunt and tonight was no exception, throngs of people milling slowly around as they got up and sat down, chatting and drinking and laughing. A group passed by Harry’s line of vision and he saw a flash of red but couldn’t be sure because of the distance and twisting his mouth moodily he turned back to the table.

He thought about Ron expressing himself through song and how he could just let all inhibitions go and project how he was feeling; he’d always admired that ability and suddenly wanted to have a go himself. But where was Ron to witness it? He’d been gone getting drinks for ages and Harry didn’t want to wait another- The DJ called for another round of applause for the Big Spender lady and Harry began to grin. Was he drunk enough? He thought for a moment.

Deciding he was drunk enough, Harry got up and tottered over to the stage, whispered in the DJ’s ear and grabbed a mic. Hearing several woops from the crowd, Ginny’s being the loudest along with what must have been Isaac laughing, he stumbled up the step and grinned stupidly as the bad 70s backing music began.

“It must have been cold there in my shadow, to never have sunlight on your face.” He tried not to wince at his terrible singing voice, urging himself to lose himself in the emotions of the song, how did Ron do this again? There were several more cheers from the table and others near the back and he waved stupidly mid-word, exchanging winks with some of the people he recognised. But he kept on looking around; he was searching for his soul mate.

“You were content to let me shine, that's your way. You always walked a step behind.”  
As heartfelt as the lyrics were, Harry had to control a rogue giggle. How many beers had he had? Not that many, but enough to feel slightly giddy as he fought to concentrate on singing and looking through the crowd.

“So I was the one with all the glory, while you were the one with all the strength.” Suddenly, through the beams of light, he saw Ron halfway back to the table, two drinks in his hand and body completely still, face turned to the stage. Harry couldn’t really make out his expression through the glare of the stage light or the distance, but just the sight of that red-hair was enough to embolden his voice.

“A beautiful face without a name for so long, a beautiful smile to hide the pain.” He wished he could see what Ron looked like in that moment. It still pained him to think about all the turmoil they’d had to go through to get there. Well, most of the hurt he’d caused through short-sightedness but Ron often spotted when he was wallowing and snapped him out of it, saying he should have been a man and just come out with it. Looking back now he thought they’d both been idiots, him more than Ron but he wasn’t about to start any more arguments about it. It was past now, and he wanted to enjoy the glorious present; they were still in the same flat, Harry vowed never to move out it without Ron, they still went to work and went for drinks with workmates but more often they’d come back, eat and then just…be together. Harry had never realised how much he just enjoyed spending time sitting and doing something, anything in Ron’s company; especially now that their list of in-door activities had lengthened slightly.

“Did you ever know that you're my hero, and everything I would like to be?”

He suddenly thought of the ring stashed in a hidden draw in his bedside table; they’d only been officially ‘together’ for six months but Harry was sick of waiting. Besides, they’d been practically married for years before, the only thing new was the sex. Oh, how he wished they’d started doing that earlier.

Ron was hot. He’d noticed it before, but he hadn’t really known it until that first time they’d tumbled into his bed, or their bed rather, and stripped each other. Standing at the back of the bed with one bare knee pressed into it he’d pushed his new lover back until he was lying down and then just stared in awe and lust. That familiar chest was glistening with sweat and his strong arms flexing, fingers twisting the sheets to stop himself lunging forward and taking his love. Harry had once seen Ron’s cock by accident at school, thinking about it he was surprised that he hadn’t spotted it a lot more often but anyway, it had only been a fleeting glance and it had definitely not been erect. But now…well, oh God what a mouth-watering sight. Ron had whined, Harry dragging his gaze upwards worried if he was embarrassed but that pained expression, teeth biting his lip, hair damp and pained lines around the eyes encircling dark lustful blue dragged a moan from the back of his throat. Unable to hold on any longer he’d thrown himself forward and claimed every inch of freckled skin with his tongue. Harry shook his head, blinking as he read the little TV screen. He had to stop those thoughts before he further embarrassed himself.

Ron was closer now, drinks having vanished: possibly put on their table or maybe dropped on the floor, either as likely judging by Ron’s stunned expression. Even in the dim club lights Harry could make out the exact shade of blue, those full lips curving slightly as he stepped closer.

“I can fly higher than an eagle, 'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.”

Ron often pinched himself. It had been like every one of his daydreams rolled into a working reality, every imagined sensation a thousand times more amazing now he could physically experience it; but still, sometimes he’d fall asleep in his lover’s arms and wonder if he’d wake like that or if he would snap into the old reality of being alone. Then he’d open his eyes, roll over and see that gorgeous face, mouth slack and a light snore that never failed to make him smile a little. He’d feel the warm back beneath his fingers and those thin but muscular arms against his body, thin hairs light against his skin and raven locks against his neck; he’d smell that familiar scent that never had dulled in vibrancy all the days and nights spent admiring it up close. Seeing his boyfriend, he always smiled whenever he heard that word, drunkenly declare his love in song-form filled him with a kind of joy he didn’t know existed. It wasn’t loud and dizzying but quiet and deep within him, lighting up every part of his soul. How could he not grin stupidly?

“I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it. I would be nothing without you.”  
Grinning through watery eyes, Harry beckoned almost violently and felt rather than heard a loud cheer from the audience as Ron leapt onto the stage and leaned in to share the mic. 

“You, you, you, you are the wind beneath my wings.” Harry wrapped an arm round his man, the solidity and heat on that familiar body next to him emboldening and sobering. He felt himself shift out of the moment and just thought that it was the happiest he’d been in a long, long time. He could barely feel his body, so light and so free and just happy. Ron made him happy, Ron had always made him happy, and the songs he’d heard along the way would never let him forget it.

_You are the wind beneath my wings._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thanks to everyone for reading!  
> :D


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